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Academy, Exhibition at the Royal .... 355 
Dom Alured, the Canon of St Paul's . . .270 
Amicitue Sbakesperiana, No. Ill ... 165 

Archeology in England 641 

Arts, Fine 449 

Ashley, Lord, his Address to the Queen on Sunday 

Post-office Regulation 447 

Assurance Offices 327, 392, 455, 518, 582, 645, 711, 771 
Banking (See Savings Banks) .... 365 

Brczwezmcisl, A Night in 607 

Craigallan Castle 599, 659, 721 

Crime, Causes of in the Metropolis . . . 329 

Colds and Cold Water 705 

College Reminiscences : Dan Looby's DeMt . . 484 
Cotton Trade and Protection, The .... 636 

Drunkenness, Scottish 547 

Epping. Origin of the Hunt .... 528 

Enter, The Bishop of 318 

Franchise, Hints on I 

, Supplementary Hints . . .117 

Greek, Debates on the Question . 506 

Gustave and his Dog 763 

High Farming 44, 713 

Hungarian War 510 

Hyperboreans 73 

Indian Archipelago, British Policy in ... 88 
India, How to Develop the Resources of . . . 201 

Jeffery, Francis 239 

Jews, Admission of, into Parliament . . . 427 
Journalism, A Chapter on Provincial . . . 424 
Legends of Ulster; by Frances Brown : — 

The Dear Lease 30 

The Midnight Procession 97 

Madden's Infair 148 

The Rath Dream 292 

The Wreckers of Fannet 242 

O'Reilly's Improvements 557 

O'Donnell's Penance 754 

Limits of Party Discipline 265 

Literary Register and Literature, 55, 125, 191, 254, 319, 
388, 452, 516, 576, 644, 703, 765 

London as it was and as it is 759 

Lover's Melancholy 681 

Memoirs of Colonel Albert Brenton, An Extract 
from . . /"> ■'; ~ 7 •Tl . . .208 


Montaigne, An unpublished Letter of . . .168 

Naseby Fight 538 

Needlewoman, Ellen Linn, The .... 465 
Oakley Common, History of . . . 336,400,631 
Obituary Notices . • . . . 66, 133, 199, 261, 328 

Oxonian, An Irish 612 

Page of St. Ladialas, The, an Hungarian Tale . 50 

Paris, Notes from 387, 451 

Peel, Sir Robert 457 

Pencil of the Sun 625 

Peter vernu Paul ; a Pig-row at Malta . . . 381 
Pirates, A Brush with on the Coast of Africa . . 541 
Protection, The Farmers and .... 438,471 

Poetry : — 

Alianore, a Christmas-tide ballad . , . . 741 

Anti-Rationalism ; by W. T. R 123 

Autumn Fruit 667 

Bachelor's Tale 689 

Beatrice 598 

Chorus ; by J. B. D 179 

Death Feud 399 

Dives and Lazarus 412 

Epigrams; by Civis Universitalis Glasguensis . 124 

Eos 680 

Falls of the Clyde 758 

Francesca di Rimini 269 

Fragment. Schiller 274 

Goblin Broom 298 

Gross and Nelt 305 

Hast thou forgot that beauteous Night; by W.H. . 63 

Lament for Sir Lancelot 680 

Lays of the Ragged School 407 

Legend of Good Women 624 

Love's Metamorphoses 284 

Man and the Animals 720 

Martyr Patriots 206 

Moorland Grave 215 

New Song for the New Year; by Colin Rae Brown . 62 

Peasant to his Lord, The 343 

Rosette. Beranger 611 

Roseneath . . . 215 

Roi d'Yvetot . Digit zed by LjDOQ IC 463 

Rosemary for Remembrance . • • 527 
The Shepherdesses. From Goethe . . .274 

Shorn Lamb ...».•• 630 



PoETEY : — (continued.) faoe. 

Sonnet of Sonnets 753 

On Westminster Abbey 124 

Such a Getting out of Town .... 423 

The Talisman 505 

To ; by W. C. Bennett . . .105 

William Tell 562 

Railway and Joint-Stock Intelligence . 64, 131, 259 
Revolutionary Revelations .... 299,414 
Roundheads before Pontefract, The . . 702, 743 

Royalist's Daughter, The 306 

Reviews : — 

Autumnal Rambles among the Scottish Moun- 
tains. By the Rev. T. Grierson . . .372 
Chalmers, Life of Dr. Vol. L and Vol. II. . 7, 490 
Galileo, Tragedy of Galilei . . . .106 

Glendower, Owen ; or, the Prince of Wales 103 
Hungary, Travels of an Englishman in, during 

the last Century 173 

In Memoriam 499 

Italy, Narrative of Scenes and Events in. Pepe 408 
Italy, Young. By A. B. Cochrane, Esq. . 747 

Leigh Hunt, Autobiography of . . . 563 

Reviews : — (continued.) tao*. 
Light and Darkness. Mrs. Crowe . 695 

Loyola md Jesuitism. By Isaac Taylor . 226 

Notes of a Traveller. S. Laing . . 649,730 

Papacy under Napoleon. Pacca . . . 285 

Prelude. W. Wordsworth 521 

Salmon, The Book of . By Ephemera . 372 

Scottish Cavalier 248 

Turkey, The Devil in 690 

Ward, Biography of Plumer .... 479 

Savings Banks 275 

Sculptures of the Modern Athens . . . .110 
Silver Ring. A Blotted Page from a Pawnbroker's 

Day-book 179 

Session of 1850, End of 573 

Sinners and Sufferers 674 

Stein, Baron 668 

Taxes on Knowledge 234 

There and Back Again . . . 17, 137, 216, 344 

University Reform 585 

Walpurgis Night, Phantasies of ... 360 
Winter Pictures from the North of Europe . 37, 88, 154 
Wordsworth, William 393 

Digitized by 



JANUARY, 1850. 


The franchise will be the framework of a debate 
in the next session of Parliament. The feeling 
evoked by the National Financial Reform and 
Complete Suffrage Association is not strong, but 
it is respectable. The noise made by the agitation 
is not deafening ; but the claim is substantial, and 
is pressed by parties of some weight — by men with 
votes and influence, to whose arguments members 
must lend a willing audience as " hustings days " 

The period would be well selected for the settle- 
ment of the franchise movement on some permanent 
basis. The work must be done at some early date ; 
and, on prudential motives, a quiet season should 
be chosen for its completion. Cottagers might 
teach statesmen wisdom on this and on other 
questions. Thatohed roofs require repairs; but 
the thatcher does not linger idly beside his straw 
until the rains fall and the storms rise, to make the 
roof tight, for he prepares in autumn's stillness for 
winter's tempests. The most intelligent politicians 
might go, with advantage, to the peasants' school, 
for they alone wait until troubles come before they 
provide a remedy, that would prevent their oc- 
currence, if applied at the right hour. 

The franchise of this country embraces so many 
qualifications that an inquirer loses himself, or his 
judgment, in the labyrinth. The qualification of 
England would serve no good purpose in Ireland 
and Scotland, for the forty shillings freehold of 
England is unknown in the other two kingdoms. 
In the latter country, two hundred shillings are 
required, in political qualifying, to stand, instead of 
forty shillings in England. The franchise in 
Ireland is more desultory, and depends very often 
on the caprioe of valuators. Difficulty is experi- 
enced in getting on, and at least equal difficulty in 
getting off, the roll of voters. A registered man 
has no immunity against death; but, for political 
purposes, he is scarcely allowed to die. His name, 
like a licensed house, has a virtue in it, although 
the original occupant may be buried for six months. 
The body that, by the laws of nature should be 
dust and ashes, walks hale and hearty to the poll, 
and votes for the highest bidder — unless some great 
political end, or some religions object, perhaps 
some bit of threadbare quackery, revives the lost 
and nearly forgotten man. 

. In England, the freemen form a powerful body 
in borough registries; but in Scotland no similar 


representatives of the working classes exist — and 
the Scotch operatives require to display no regret 
on that account, for the English freemen often do 
things discreditable to themselves. The ten pound 
rental of London, and the same rental in Thurso 
or G-alway, are very different qualifications. Money 
is of less value in large towns than in old rural 
boroughs. Therefore, the man who pays six pounds 
of rental in the good town of Elgin is probably 
better to do in the world than a ten pound house- 
holder in Edinburgh. Government clings to a 
qualification of stone, but declines to make it more 
than nominally uniform. Inequalities of this de- 
scription can never be entirely obviated, bat ar- 
rangement and care would reduce their present in- 

Their recapitulation is an nnpleasant and also 
an unprofitable and provoking, mode of spending 
time. They are not defensible, and they are not 
defended. Their authors and supporters only decry, 
any disturbance of the country at present. Let ill 
alone, they say, because some persons have been 
doing mischief at Turin, or in Mesopotamia, or in 
Bokhara. The day will never dawn on this side 
of the millennium, in which, somewhere, unreason- 
able men will not be doing and asking unreasonable 
things. The British people are not to be consi- 
dered as guarantees for all the human family: 
they oannot be justly punished for any crimes ex- 
cept their own. Political privileges should not be 
withheld from them on account of riots done by the 
Baden-Badenese; or because Red Republicanism cir- 
culates through French workshops. Should the ope- 
ratives of England, and especially of Scotland — since 
those of England may buy freeholds — be politically 
disfranchised because they are poor? The negative 
is the answer byeverybody; but many add, that foe 
their own sins they suffer. They are ignorant, im- 
provident, or intemperate; and, on these grounds, 
a general sentenee is issued against the whole body. 
The inconsistency of this conduct is remarkable, 
for although the artisan who tipples has, for tip- 
pling, his citizenship shred away, yet the licensed 
dealer who supplies his artificial cravings, and 
generally drinks deep himself, is a privileged man; 
and all the other persons who minister the means 
of debasement are exalted into voters, because their 
trade requires or their profits enable them to pay 
ten pounds and upwards of annual, rent. 

The argument against the concession of the «*. 



frag© to the unenfranchised, because many of them 
consume part of their earnings in a most objec- 
tionable manner, is worthless; except against the 
eyil-doers themselves, andbetterorwisermen should 
not be punished for their misdeeds. The spirit of 
our laws has said for centuries, that ten guilty men 
should escape rather than one innocent person be 
punished. The administration of the electoral law 
punishes many innocent persons to prevent the 
escape without punishment of many who ape 

Various schemes have been propounded to reform 
the law, and to extend the franchise to all compe- 
tent persons. A five pound franchise, household 
franchise, a moral and intellectual franchise, have 
been advocated with various degrees of zeal. The 
first would be, probably, supported by many of the 
Whigs; the seeond is a premium on early mar- 
riages, and calculated to exclude thrifty bachelors 
ssfce hare some stake in the well-doing of the na- 
tion, and intelligence to give effect to their motives; 
the third is, doubtless, the most complete and ad- 
visable scheme, but it is troublesome, and Govern- 
saent officials hate trouble, while it is also liable to 
abuse — a counter qualification that might compen- 
sate its administrators for some objections, 

A franchise of five pounds would not cany the 
same objections in principle as one of ten. The 
difference between five and ten in this case is more 
than one of degree. Sanatory reformers who have 
studied the clroumstanoes of all towns, with popu- 
lations ranging over ten thousand, will admit 
readily that in nearly all of them an artisan's 
fraaily may obtain a house, or part of a house, 
suitable to their real necessities, for a less annual 
sent than ten pounds, but not for less than five. 
This is a broad distinction in the character of the 
two rental qualifications. Ten excludes economi- 
cal and industrious families; fire includes all of 
them who are net suffering severe calamity, 
or do not follow an overdone trade. Ten pounds 
yearly is four shillings weekly — a higher proportion 
than should be paid for rental out of any inoome 
under twenty to thirty shillings weekly; and a 
higher sum than that for which persons with a better 
income can obtain sufficient accommodation in many 
Of the largest towns; while five pounds annually is 
two shillings weekly, a payment for rental abso- 
lutely necessary to all who receive twelve shillings 
of weekly wages or upwards, and who properly, in 
their circumstances, dischargein their families the 
duties owing to them, and to sooiety on their ac- 

' A five pound franchise Is not, therefore, a pal- 
liative of the present system, but Involves a new 
principle. A rental of ten pounds yearly would 
he, for many families, a deed of misthrift; while tho 
payment of five pounds is a certificate, in the great 
majority of cases, that just precautions for health, 
and th* culture of the moral feelings, have been 
adopted. The line would not include many deserv- 
ing persons amongst the peasantry and country 
labourers, although it is desirable that they should 
pay five pounds annually, that their cottages should 
be increased in value by allotments of land, in all 
cases sufficient for this purpose. No classes would 

gain more by the adoption of this principle than 
the owners and tenants of farms, because it would 
improve the character of farm labourers in many 
respects. It would give a tremendous blow to noc- 
turnal trespasses for sinister objects; and game 
preservers should hare it in their minds with that 
view. It would also secure steady labourers, and an 
abundant supply at hay and harvest seasons, for 
which farmers should support the allotment scheme. 

The franchise would also exclude some trades 
that are overdone. The wages paid in various de- 
partments of the weaving business prove the trade 
to be in bad circumstances. It may answer, and 
eyen do wel], on the Irish or the Saxon systems, 
where it is pursued in conjunction with the cultiva- 
tion of small farms; where the weaver considers it 
as a supplementary branch of support, in which the 
aid of his family can be profitably employed; but 
as the sole means of support in large towns, 
or in any other quarter, very few branches of hand- 
loom weaving are at present advisable professions. 

A household franchise is indefinite, and contains 
no element that could induce a wise man to stop 
at that point, short of universal suffrage: for what 
is a house? Is it a single room in a six pair 
attic, or one of the pyramidical mansions at Prince 
Albert's gate? Is it a hut or a mansion; or where 
is the line between the two; whioh divides between 
houses, and hovels, or lodgings? Mr. Hume once 
defined a ■ householder to be a rate-payer; but in 
tho great majority of towns and rural districts, 
persons occupying less than five pounds worth per 
annum of houses or lands, are not rated, and by 
this definition, would be placed on the terms of a 
five pound franchise. Another objection is pre- 
sented by the fact that in many quarters a strong 
opposition has been formed to rating on rental, from 
good motives; and supported, we believe, by strong 
reasons. Heritable property should not be alone 
required to bear local or general taxation. Divi- 
dends from the funds, interest from mortgages, 
professional incomes, and profits from trade, will all 
be involved in the vortex of local rating. Precari- 
ous incomes are to be considered in a very different 
light, and dealt with entirely in a different manner 
from incomes derived from property; but they are 
liable to some share of general burdens, and are 
unlikely to be long exempted. In this change, 
however, small incomes, like small rentals, will be 
practically exempted, and the class of persons in- 
habiting houses cheaper than five pounds of annual 
rent would be left off the roll of electors, fn return 
for boing left out of the local rate collector's list. 

These remarks are intended only to show tho 
practical working of a household suffrage with a 
rate-paying clause. It is said by Mr. Cobden, whq 
has adopted it from Mr. Hume, to be an old Saxon 
practice — to have all the advantage of precedent 
— and to be therefore dear to Englishmen. Wo 
oannot discuss the question in that form, for the 
anxieties of Englishmen for this or any other 
system of franchise cannot be exactly ascertained; 
but we wish them to know the precise meaning of 
a household franchise, under tho qualification, of 
rate-paying. It is a five pound qualification in, 
almost an towns, and may hp higher in some other 


places. It alio embraces the condition of a twelve- 
months' residence prior to Toting, which would 
necessarily exclude lodgers in a great number of* 
ww, for they are a movable class, who enjoy 
their freedom with apparent seat. 

Universal suffrage is definite. It leaves little 
room for eavil or doubt. If the parochial registrar 
has discharged his doty, a youth has merely to 
live on with the certainty of becoming qualified. 
The Charter contains, indeed, a moral qualification 
— it denudes those persons who may be convicted 
of crime. That form of expression is very gem' 
ral, and might be interpreted to include many 
persons. The law might recognise, as crimes, trans- 
actions which are not at present within its grasp. 
Still, this system is more explicit than any other 
project, and has received some support on that 
account alone, apart from all other consideration*, 
Those amongst its advocates, who believe that it 
will form the next step in advance, refuse to take 
a Single hop in any other direction, or to contem- 
plate any route to their journey's end except 
the straight path which they have chalked. They 
probably forget the character of mankind ; they 
seem never to have learned that men who cannot 
be driven may be led. They are unwilling to 
fines**, and they have a heart- hatred of expedi- 
ency. The franchise at twenty-five would be 
deemed by them an invasion of natural privileges; 
although there is nothing more natural in twenty- 
one than in twenty or la twenty-two, in twenty- 
five or in thirty. It is an arbitrary line adopted 
by the publio for general convenience; bat another 
generation will have the same right to believe that 
males reach their majority at eighteen as we have 
to fix on twenty-one. Precedent* exist! For the 
purpose of the " chief magistracy" of the throne, 
eighteen was named as the majority of an ilhts- 
trious lady. " AU mates from eighteen to sixty,'' 
is the extreme call to arm* Eighteen is the Verge, 
on the cradle side of life, where militia liabilities 
commence by our present law. Therefore many 
arguments might exist for eighteen^ While another 
generation might take the next septennial period; 
and, for legislative purposes, some nations struck 
the age qualification farther into life. 

The publio require merely a convenient rule 
whereby they may attain self-government, and 
regarding which few good eitiaene shall be able to 
say that they are excluded by circumstance* over 
which they have no control. For this great end 
of suffrage agitation, no necessity exists to stand 
stiffly upon any prescribed mode. The object to 
view being* once reached, we need not quarrel re- 
garding the way. To these parties who believe 
that twenty-one has) an exclusive claim for adop- 
tion, no alternative remains. They are bound 
over by their creed to twenty-one, without any 
change or compromise, and they cannot seek the 
adoption of a different system. The number of 
this class is comparatively few, and the great body 
of followers of twenty-one are merely jeahrae of 
new schemes, because, having often been cheated 
in past times, they are reluetant to run risks for 
the time to comev 

Qat object being to mtrtw *&nat bmb by 

which a large number of persons «a be fefMgntt* 
gather with some prospect of immediate success, we 
notice all the schemes before the puttie* Intellectual 
and moral saffrage is now scarcely ever Brtntkoed. 
It is considered as an unattainable degree of perfec- 
tion in politics, which those who sigh for will vainly 
seek. That is its general character, and it is the worst 
character, neatly, that a great political scheme ceuJd 
possess. The general prevalence of this opinion must 
lead to its realisation. People will not labour for, 
and will grow not to love, the unattainable; tod before 
the prevalent impression could be rubbed out, we sus- 
pect that a generation would be carried away. Ih* 
<*pt for that fear, an intellectual and moral suffrage 
carries many reoumnieneutions, and removes various 
objections. The mere title conveys only a small idea 
of the object sought. An intellectual suffrage might 
be fixed high ; tad the moral addendtim aright be com*- 
plex and troublesome. Any legislators who had a 
desire to confuse the system, and render its working 
dancutt, could propose means for that purpose ; but a 
simple and efficient scheme might be readily contrived. 
The art of reading and writing legibly would not prove 
a high intellectual suffrage 5 and if its existence com* 
palled many persons living in a State of gross ignorance 
to remove that reproach, the world would be better 
for a deed which had not made them worse. The 
registries of England show that many males, to the 
extent of nearly two-fifths, sign with "a mark.'* The 
fast is infamous; and We believe nothing regarding 
the fitness of these men to elect representatives on any 
sound political reason. They might confide in their 
neighbours, and do well; exactly as a blind man may 
follow his dog and be safe; but they cannot form 
an intelligent opinion on their own account. We 
know that men have made money who were never 
at school Men have been known even to do a large 
business who could hot write a day-book. We nave 
met individuals who knew much of the World, past 
and present, and yet who could neither read nor write; 
Still, we have no reason to make a rule by dedu^fchs 
from phenomena, and we believe that few zealous 
friends for an extensive suffrage would deeply regret 
if an intellectual suffrage, in the simplicity of merely 
reading and writing, were conditional to amy scheme 
of making up the electoral roll, provided they could 
obtain a guarantee for its fair administration. Many 
of them revert in argument to the natural right, and 
insist that it should not be broken ; but they say, very 
clearly, that the only natural right in the case is, the 
will of the majority, who have a right to make condi- 
tions calculated to improve individual happiness and 
to secure the public good. " Taxation without repre- 
sentation is tyranny," is a saying that does not possess 
a literal but a general interpretation. Many persona 
are taxed who can have no share in the appoint* 
ment of representatives. Rich minors, of promising 
genius, possessed of great information, aged twenty 
years and eight months, may miss alt election with 
our septennial parliaments ; and yet are not the objects 
of special tyranny. Females, in or out of business, 
who have no male delegate or representative, pay 
taxes, and cannot be exempted; yet they an 
not electors, and very few individuals, kdeed, pro- 
pose to enfranchise them. We are not sufficiently 
imbued with Matemme^ dogmas to- ettrae; ffcefr 


emission on the book of intellectual inferiority. The 
readers of this magazine could scarcely accept that 
argument, for since its commencement it has been 
deeply indebted to the pens of females for a great 
proportion, probably one-half, of its most interesting 
papers. We see before us a rich treat in a scientific 
work, published anonymously, and yet unread. We 
expect great delight from its perusal, founded on the 
instruction and pleasure derived from its predecessor. 
Both volumes are written by a lady, who chooses at 
present to conceal her name ; but three-fourths of her 
readers, or more, ascribe them to some active and elo- 
quent professor, some gentleman in black, whom the 
Government would have deemed a windfall for the 
Chair of Natural History, in one of their new Irish 
colleges ; and who would not have thanked them for 
this presentation. The exclusion of females from 
electoral lists must be defended on some other field 
than that of intellectual efforts ; and is a matter of 
convenience assented to, and enforced by, nine-tenths 
of the parties affected by its existence. We must 
grasp the spirit of the old Saxon saying, that " taxa- 
tion without representation is tyranny," instead of 
losing time in splitting hairs or nice distinctions re- 
regarding rights natural or acquired. The time has 
come to seek the rights ; and when they are obtained 
we can settle their characteristics at leisure. A fair 
and full representation of the people will cover all that 
the rule quoted requires, by whatever means that repre- 
sentation be obtained. The Charter itself embodies a 
moral qualification ; the claimant for the franchise 
must be unstained by crime. It does not dearly lay 
down the law on this topic, which it broadly announces. 
Is the man who has been convicted of crime to be 
permanently excluded from the rights and the roll of 
citizenship ; or must his exclusion run only during the 
currency of other parts of his sentence ? A different 
scheme from either of these might be adopted, and the 
franchise could be withdrawn for a definite period in 
addition to the punishment otherwise affixed to crime 
These questions are not idle inquiries, tending to no 
practical end; for they must be answered and cleared 
away if ever the Charter be put in the form of a Par- 
liamentary bill, under the care of the leader in the 
House of Commons. They are practical questions for 
which those in charge of the measure must make prac- 
tical answers, and put them in the statute if their 
movement be successful. A moral qualification must 
always proceed upon the convictions of criminal courts. 
It must differ materially from an intellectual qualifica- 
tion, although they are generally coupled. The intellec- 
tual must be an affirmative, and the moral a negative 
The former must proceed on something possessed, and the 
latter on something avoided. Other plans have been pro- 
posed, but they are all attended with insuperable ob- 
jections in principle, or serious difficulties in working. 
The law must afford the test. For that purpose the 
law can be amended. Some persons have alleged, with 
much apparent propriety, that a clever man who 
squandered intemperately the money that should sup- 
port himself and his family in comfort, is an enemy to 
society, and a criminal. Their conclusion is inevita- 
ble; and we could see no sound reason for refusing, 
or deferring to give the police a right to seize all 
drunkards seen in the act, to bring them before the 
msgufot*, to fine them, and, if the public consented, 

to cross their names in the electoral rate, and suspend 
them after two, three, or more transgressions, for a time. 
If the majority adopt that rule ; or if the present Par- 
liament, or any similar Parliament, in passing a suf- 
frage bill, insert clauses of that nature, we can see 
no great objection to their conduct. They will punish 
a vice that increases our poor-rates, our police rates, 
our criminal charges — and is, in met, the cause of three- 
fourths of the sums levied on these heads being requisite. 
It has theofficeof paternity to a large portion of ourpublic 
ing ; it is closely connected with all the over- 
crowding, the straw beds, the gross ignorance, the 
incipient crime, the sanatory defects, and the fatal 
epidemics of large towns. Drunken fathers, husbands, 
brothers, and sons, made Thomas Hood's " Song of the 
Shirt." They had more certainly to do with it than 
the proprietors of shops for cheap needlework. They 
have done more and worse than that ; for they have 
succeeded in making many drunken wives, sisters, 
mothers, and daughters ; and females, once given over 
to intemperance, are the most helpless and hopeless 
specimens of a fallen and degraded humanity. No 
good objection, therefore, can be stated to any course 
calculated to discourage this vice, and to affix a stigma 
on its followers ; but " the Charter" leaves this matter 
open, and casts on the legislature the responsibility if 
it do not classify all crimes under their proper names. 
Our criminal law is in a most imperfect state, and 
many positive crimes escape with a light punishment. 
To this intellectual and moral qualification for the 
franchise we have given already space disproportioned 
to its chances of adoption under existing circumstances; 
although both additions might be made with marked 
advantage to any scheme of franchise, and both are 
under fair restrictions, and, in the way and to the extent 
we have described, quite practicable. 

The employment of the forty shillings freehold 
qualification in England points the way to a measure, 
which, without being objectionable to any party, may 
form the basis of a compromise, on fair terms, of an 
intermediate system that may be made, if it works 
well, and the country be brought into a prosperous 
state, a final measure. The forty shillings freehold 
qualification is confined to England; but no rational 
ground for opposing its extension to Ireland and Scot- 
land exists. We may at once state here our insuper- 
able objection to a bane already entering into, and 
corrupting, the forty shillings franchise in England. 
Societies have been formed for the purpose of advanc- 
ing money, by mortgage, on these freeholds. We oare 
not whether these societies be under the patronage of 
the Member for the West Biding, or the Member for 
Warwickshire. Even although both these honourable 
gentlemen should have some responsibility for their exis- 
tence, yet their effect is only " swindling made easy." 
Political swindling is not considered quite so bad as 
the same article in trade, but we do not think it cal- 
culated to improve public morals. This description of 
qualification for the franchise should be free. Our 
Saxon ancestors did not contemplate burthened free- 
holds; and the procuration of forty shilling freeholders 
who are debtors on their property, to a large extent, is 
only another system of fictitious voting, similar to that 
practised in Sootch counties. 

All classes in the three kingdoms should have 
liberty to qualify upon holdings of this nature, if they 


were not burthened by debts. The public know nothing 
of private transactions, and cannot tell what money a 
man may be due on open accounts or bills ; but when 
money is raised on the security of property, the latter 
should be deemed as alienated for any political pur- 
poses. One man may lend money to another man, 
or give him credit in business, on the understanding 
that he possesses property, and with arrangements of 
that nature the world is not concerned ; but when 
property is put aside as a special security for a special 
payment, the owner has no right to anticipate a quali- 
fication to vote on ground, or any other property, that 
really is no longer at his disposal. This rule should 
be applicable in every case, and to all descriptions of 
property and qualifications connected with the legis- 
lature, so that our political system might be founded 
on truth. We assume, therefore, that the three king- 
doms may obtain this forty shillings franchise with 
the provision which we have stated. Mr. Cobden told 
a Bradford audience that an American in Paris, to 
whom he related the state of this qualification, held 
up his two hands in astonishment over the idea of an 
Englishman complaining of exclusion from the franchise 
while this 40s. freehold system remained; and Mr. Cob- 
den shared this astonishment in some measure. The 
qualification is good so far as it goes ; but it cannot 
be obtained for its value in all localities ; and in others 
freeholds of this minitude cannot be obtained for money. 
To many persons they are entirely useless, unless four 
or five owners can join together to let their portions 
to one tenant. To other parties they are extremely 
valuable, for they afford ground for a cottage, a cot- 
tage-garden, and a small allotment which can be well 
wrought in leisure hours, aided even by children at 
school. Artisans in villages of all descriptions can 
render their freeholds economical possessions, if they 
are obtained in the neighbourhood of their employ- 
ment. Sobriety amongst the colliers would stud the 
coal districts over with little ownerships and cottages 
of this character, and cover many political qualifica- 
tions, if the landowners would divide parts of their 
estates for this purpose. The iron districts would be 
mapped off in the same wholesome style. Lanarkshire 
and Staffordshire might have several thousand voters 
of this description. Tradesmen employed in rural 
affairs could qualify with the same kind of property.' 
All villages, or small towns in counties, should be sur- 
rounded with a belt or ring of freeholds. The move- 
ment is in every way healthful. It binds the electors 
to the soil, and even to a particular locality. It 
would give employers security that the employed were 
in the right position — 'too rich to be trampled on, and 
too much interested in their neighbourhood to become 
wantonly, insolent. It would give the state electors, 
too numerous to be bought, and so far interested in the 
country that they would necessarily give votes cal- 
culated, in their opinion, to secure the public well-being. 
The men would have a stake, and to them a large 
stake, in the land. 

A very numerous class can never judiciously avail 
themselves of this qualification; and some provision, on 
the same principle, should be made for them. Upon 
a twenty-five years' purchase, a freehold, to yield forty 
shillings, must cost fifty pounds. The latter sum, in- 
vested in the country, may therefore be considered as 
the real qualification. An artisan in a large town can- 


not judiciously buy land. He is ignorant of its ma- 
nagement ; he has not even the pleasure of seeing 
his property mismanaged. He cannot use, and he 
should not speculate ; he may lose his earnings, but 
he is unlikely to increase his riches by that course. 
For him, therefore, the liberal terms of the legislature 
are offered in vain. The most sweeping clause of the 
Reform Bill does not include him, although he may 
work laboriously or skilfully, and spend with equal 
care. For him some new scheme is therefore requisite. 
He needs also some open door for getting fairly 
and fully within the Constitution, upon easy terms; and 
we believe that a plan can be devised for attaining 
this object, without infringing the principle of the forty 
shilling franchise, but by fitting it into the present 
state of society. The principle adopted by the legis- 
lature, on the calculation that we have already given, 
is remarkably simple. A man is required to possess 
fifty pounds, not in cash, but in property. Any man, 
from a political purpose, may be enabled to exhibit 
fifty sovereigns; but the law requires some proof that 
the property is his own. This is a very proper view 
of the case, and we have already shown a disposition 
to have the law not relaxed, but tightened in that 
respect. Still we can see no imaginable reason for 
confining the qualification to land. At the period 
when the forty shilling franchise came first into use, 
land formed almost the only permanent property, 
and money was more valuable than now, of which 
we reap, so far as this qualification is concerned, some 
advantage. Circumstances have now altered greatly, 
and other descriptions of property are of equal im- 
portance to the country as land — equally dependent 
on, and equally promotive of, its prosperity. On that 
account, other kinds of property should be invested 
with the power of conferring the franchise; and thus 
a|l classes of society might profitably become voters. 
We shall enumerate some of those investments that 
might be advantageously added to freeholds. 

Deposits in savings banks, which are avowedly pur- 
chases in the national funds, must be, for national 
purposes, a peculiarly good investment on which to 
found a qualification — better even than land itself; 
because a more precarious property, although, at 
present, one perfectly secure. In this case, a deposit 
of £60 to £70 would be requisite to give a tree annual 
income of forty shilling! ; and £75 would not be too 
high a sum to fix as the equivalent of a forty shillings 
freehold — because a deposit can be readily converted 
into money, while land, perhaps, may not be easily 
sold when its owner requires to realise his means. 
The depositor would require to be otherwise qualified 
as to age, and the various conditions common in 
every case; but then the deposit receipt, or his 
pass-book, intimating that he had that sum to 
his credit for twelve months before enrolment, 
should secure at once the entry of his name on the 
electoral list, with liberty to vote next day, if an 
opportunity occurred. As he would vote upon this 
deposit, the production of his qualification should be 
required whenever he desired again to exercise that 
privilege. He might be compelled to draw out his de- 
posit, and, in that case, his privilege would cease, only 
to be renewed if he again lodged a similar sum for the 
same period previous to voting. In the event of a 
r«rtWr*ductionof the sum-^ one-half for example-. 



the foil amount would require to be re- invested for one- 
half of the full period — and other soma drawn to he 
re-lodged for a corresponding time, prior to the renewal 
of the qualification. 

Building societies should furnish those members with 
a qualification who derive the requisite income from 
their funds, under similar conditions and provisions to 
those which we have already described as applicable to 
deposits in savings' banks. The money invested in 
this instance, to yield a clear income of forty shillings, 
should not exceed twenty-five years' purchase. 

Property, although not freehold, should oonvey this. 
In Scotland a large amount of this property is held on 
what may best be described as leases renewable for 
ever, at an annual rental In all those cases where 
the real interest exceeds the annual feu duty by the 
sum mentioned, the electoral privilege might be con- 
ceded. We deem that every species of property, 
fixed in the country, and not requisite in the manage- 
ment of a man's business, or not used in his household, 
but strictly to be regarded as economised, should be 
placed, for political purposes, on the fooling of freeholds. 
We would even yield an equal privilege to annuitants 
from the national stocks, although that form of invest- 
ment is commendable only in peculiar cases. To the 
holders of life policies current for a considerable period, 
even although not of the value of £50, this right should 
be conceded, because nothing can be more desirable 
than the extension of this practice. All our readers 
may know that £50 paid in premiums will not render 
a policy worth £50. An insurance company will not 
repay all the money that they have received ; but an 
arrangement of this matter could be easily accom- 
plished. We suggest the idea, which we once did for- 
merly, as the means of improving the position of the 
unenfranchised, who desire political privileges, and 
gratifying their wishes in that respect at the same time. 
The leading principle recommended by us now was also 
advocated in our pages a considerable period since. 
Twelve months' reflection has confirmed our opinion 
that the plan is practicable. The most extreme suf- 
fragists, who will take no step short of the great leap, 
can derive no harm from the measure while it lasts. 
The Conservatives and Whigs, who are nervous from 
the fear of property being invaded, or wild measures 
being rapidly adopted, must be reassured by a franchise 
formed on the acquisition of property. They may be- 
lieve that fifty pounds is, to a man who has earned the 
sum by hard labour, no inconsiderable amount. He 
will guard it with the care bestowed by the rich stock- 
broker on thousands. They should not overlook the 
indirect advantages of the system. Many of the arti- 
sans in this country struggle honourably to attain inde- 
pendence. Forwhatotherpurpose are their benefit socie- 
ties formed, and their building societies promoted ? Why 
have they collected nearly thirty millions of money in 
the national security savings banks ? How is it that 
whenever a system of life assurance suitable to their 
means has been offered, they have embraced it in con- 
siderable numbers ? The desire for independence is 
the prompting cause in all these cases. Such desires 
would be sharpened, and these efforts would be im- 
measurably increased, by attaching to success the 
reward of citizenship in its fullest meaning. The poor 
rates in the three countries are very high, and they 
MS inc r easi n g rapidly. This measure would cheek 

their increase, and make it a reproaah, ft* a man who 

had enjoyed health and tolerable employment for several 
years, not to be a voter and the owner of property. 

The legislation of the House" of Commons perpetu- 
ally affects labour, and it would be satisfactory to have 
the opinions of the best men amongst the working 
classes embodied in their votes. The friends of native 
industry, on all aides of the house, would thus have an 
opportunity of hearing the opinions of the industrious 
on their various projects, by the most constitutional 

The objections of the diafreaohisad to this system of 
suffrage would have great weight if the plan were a 
final settlement; but they would stand here on the 
ground which the Duke of Wellington laid we occu- 
pied regarding the eon lews — if the plan do not 
answer, we can change again. The only difference 
between this property qualification and universal suf- 
frage is seven yean on aa average. The artisan who, 
by the one scheme, would slip out of his indenture on 
to the registry, would have, by the other, to fight hie 
way — to deny and to discipline himself foe seven years. 
A determined saving, week after week, of half-e-orown, 
would accomplish the object. If these savings were 
the price of the franchise and freedom, it would 
not be too high] but when they ere to be made 
for the benefit of the economist, for his owe and his 
family's independence, we see no hardship except the 
delay of this septennial period. But how many sep- 
tennial periods have passed in the effort to obtain the 
required extension of the suffrage ? Seven tunes 
seven years and more here passed away sinoe the late 
Earl Grey, before he had attained aooronet, and while 
a member of the House of Commons, introduced • 
measure to enact universal suffrage. Aged men recall 
the days of their youth and manhood — the period of 
Henry Hunt, of William Cobbett, and Sir Francis 
Burdett, when they struggled from New-Year's Day to 
Christmas, in the hope that the next year would wit- 
ness their great Reform BilL We might easily now 
flatter hope by saying that next year, or the next, the 
barriers will be broken down; hut we know not that 
they will, and we say not that they will stand 
perpetually. Some of the recent continental efforts 
have not been so successful aa to warrant the 
expectation that they will soon be imitated here. 
And yet in no quarter have the representatives 
of the people, chosen amid extreme excitement, 
by a majority, adopted any measure adverse to 
the rights of property, injurious to the fundamental 
interests of society, or likely to ooa&rat the evil im- 
pressions regarding their policy entertained by their 
former rulers, and by many who only looked at and 
watched European movements. But the blood shed, 
the misery caused, and the business prevented, by 
political changes on the Continent, have damped the 
feeling in their favour here. The time is therefore 
favourable to the adoption of a measure that would 
make no violent change — that would teach as it enfran- 
chised — give independence where it gave votes— would 
create habits of economy, and ensure respect fur pro- 
perty — would animate with an honest ambition all the 
unenfranchised, and inspire them with self-reliance and 
perseverance, The indirect benefits of this plan are 
more desirable then its direct reseats; for we believe 
it capable of uraduellj exhausting pauperism, as it 

Digitized by GoOglC 


contributed to swell the number in possession of poll- 
tieal rights. It would not work for some years with 
great rapidity; but each operation would have a double 
character, for all whom it elevated into the political 
registry would be lifted from the probability of pau- 
perism, from the fear of degradation, into a position 

of hope and of independence, and pnt into possession * 
of a real and substantial interest in the empire ; in ad- 1 
dition to the interest which all men feel who rive under 
its laws, contribute to its revenue, and have their em- 
ployment, where their fathers lived and died, within its' 


Ibn year* moat have passed since the death of 
any man in Scotland ezoited that sad sensation 
caused by the demise of Dr. Chalmers, and many 
years most pass again before death can produce a 
similar result by a single stroke; for we have no 
man with a character yet earned or formed, so 
high in general estimation as that his removal 
would be felt in the same extent to be a national 
calamity. The circumstances attendant on the 
death of Dr. Chalmers were well calculated to in- 
crease its effect. The body with whom he was 
immediately associated had passed towards the 
close of its annual assembly, when death came to 
him noiselessly, and without a warning. He lite- 
rally fell asleep; for, left at night in health, he was 
found at morn in death. No premonitory symp- 
toms of bodily or mental weakness had prepared 
bis friends for the loss that they were to sustain. 
His pallid features bore no vestige of a struggle 
with the last enemy; and death, in this instance, 
was very like " translation." All men were sad- 
dened by this ohange; for even those who were 
uninfluenced by religious considerations, felt still 
that a man great in science, wielding an immense 
influence by the weight of personal character alone, 
of undoubted benevolence and pure motives, had 
passed away, and left a place that would not be 
soon occupied. It was onrions and instructive to 
mark the baste with which death smoothed down 
feuds, and healed animosities, amongst various 
religious bodies. Few men had ever mingled more 
than Dr. Chalmers in polemioal and semi-political 
discussions. His opposition to any cause had been 
long deemed a serious hindrance to its suooess. No 
party felt themselves safe before bis marked dis- 
approval, and many whom he opposed were irritated 
under his arguments. At some period of his long 
and active career, he had been led into opposition, 
nearly to all the various denominations, except 
that with which he was at his death connected. 
Yet the general benevolence of his oharaoter had 
always soon effaced these breaches; and even his 
rebukes breathed a spirit of love and truth. The 
posthumous publication of several works, and espe- 
cially of his short commentaries, has increased the 
esteem in which he was long regarded in religious 
circles. We mention these circumstances as cal- 
culated to increase the responsibility of his bio-, 

It was sometime since announced that his 
life would be written by his son-in-law, Dr. Hanna, 
and he has several qualifications of a special 

kind for this work. He was in terms of the 
most perfect intimacy with Dr. Chalmers, and he 
has the most complete access, not merely to all 
his papers, but to those of his opinions on public 
questions, that, though unwritten, must live in the re- 
collection of the members of his family. Dr. Hanna 
is a native of Belfast ; and although he was, pre- 
vious to the disruption, a paroohial minister in the 
Scotch Established Church, yet his freedom from 
early prejudices and feelings may,- on many topics 
connected with Scotland, which will necessarily 
come under his notioe in the second Mid subsequent 
volumes, enable him to adhere closely to the part 
of a fair and candid historian. Dr. Chalmers' 
life is intimately woven into the history of all 
national movements, from the day when he aided 
to form a small Bible Society at Eilraany, to his 
last evidence on the site question, before a oom. 
mittee of the House of Commons. His biographer 
must have boon, from his earliest years, acquainted 
with Scotch ecclesiastical movements : the son of 
a minister who was long justly considered the leader 
of the evangelioal party amongst the Irish Presby. 
terians, and who retains, in extreme old age, no 
small influence amongst that body ; Dr. Hanna 
must have grown up familiar with ecclesiastical 
proceedings and questions of Interest in Sootoh 
affairs, yet in a manner not so likely to warp the 
judgment as might be fairly expected, and must 
be cautiously watchod, in one who has lived 
amongst the actors to party movements from' 
infancy, and gradually imbibed strong opini-. 
ons regarding them, even before his reason can 
have made an intelligent decision on their merits. 
Dr. Hanna is a particularly unobtrusive man, but 
his literary abilities will enable him to use fully, 
and well the rich materials in his power. A s editor 
of the North British Review, to whioh Dr. Chalmers 
regularly contributed, he had the best means of 
ascertaining his relative's impressions regarding 
the current of events towards the olose of his. 
life; and the last volume of the work is likely-, 
to be the most interesting. 

It may be considered a curious chain of 
events that has given the narration of tills life— — i 
that of Scotland's greatest son, in the first part 
—of our century, t ■■> an Irish gentleman. It seems 
to aooord completely with one of those objects 
that we know to have been very near to Dr* 
Chalmers* heart in his lifetime, the strengthen, 
ing ef the link that once, more obviously even 
than now, bound Ulster to Scotland, and 

by CjV' 

» Vol. I. BtUsbnrgk,; Sutherland & Knox. ' • TVjOOgtC 


to her earliest and greatest colony. Historians 
allege that the Soots vera originally a colony from 
Ireland, who settled in the western division of Scot- 
land; and that before their name was given to this 
country, it had belonged to Ireland. No doubt ex- 
ists respecting the original connection, although 
its nature may not now be altogether intelligible 
The intercourse between countries separated at one 
point by a channel of twenty, and at another point of 
ten miles, must have always been considerable, and 
we meet its consequences in many pages of Scotch 
and Irish history. Still is shown, on the borders 
of Ulster, the spot where the rash but chivalric 
Edward Bruce fell, in his attempt to drive the 
English out of Ireland. When, at a long pos- 
terior period, James the First of England deter- 
mined to colonise part of Ulster, from England and 
Scotland, a large body of the undertakers, and 
their tenants and retainers, came from Scotland; 
and their descendants now occupy a great part of 
the north-eastern counties, forming the majority 
of the population. At subsequent periods, when 
persecution reddened its sword and erected its 
gallows in the West of Scotland, men fled in great 
numbers, with the love of truth and freedom as their 
heritage, from the western counties to Ulster. To 
these circumstances, and the probability that tbe 
tenets of the Culdees were never entirely forgotten 
and obliterated in the North of Ireland, may be 
•scribed the formation of the Irish Presbyterian 
Church, which has its centre in Antrim, Down, and 
Deny; and the general prevalence of Protestant- 
ism in Ulster. Dr. Chalmers was intimately con- 
versant with the history of that body, and sincerely 
desirous for their prosperity. He found them closely 
associated with the doctrinal history of the Church of 
Scotland; and was, probably, gratified by their ad- 
herence to the Free Church at the period of the 
disruption. Six years ago, Dr. Chalmers visited 
Ireland, we believe, for the last time, and resided 
for a considerable period at the beautiful village of 
Bostrevor. He had previously experienced weak- 
ness, arising, not improbably, from the excitement 
of the period. His residence at Rostrevor, and the 
air of the Monroe Mountains, had contributed to re- 
store his strength. We met him one day, when on 
his way homewards, in a ourious position for an 
invalid: the top of one of the range of high moun- 
tains that environ Belfast on the north-west, and 
seem to have been cast up between it and Lough 
Neagh. The summit of the Cave hill commands a 
sweep of great extent on every side; and, on a sum- 
mer afternoon, when the sun's rays sparkle on the 
distant waters of Lough Neagh, Lough Strangford, 
and the Channel, yields one of the most superb 
views in our islands. The busy town beneath, with 
its fine river, covered with ships of many flags, 
and every form, gradually widening into Belfast 
Lough, and the latter losing itself bet ween the Cope- 
land and the Maiden Islands in the Channel, with the 
Scottish hills in Galloway for a background to the 
oast; or the same river, winding its course up the 
fertile valley to Lisbon), now lost for a long dis- 
tance, to be again revealed between corn fields or 
through trees in a narrow line of silvery brightness, 
and its densely peopled banks, away from the ooean 

to its source, studded with little towns arid numer- 
ous villas, catching the eye amid its many ootsages, 
sometimes clustered round a tall chimney, or 
gathered together at the corners of bleaching fields, . 
that seem, even in July, to have a covering of snow; 
or over the Castlereagh hills, on the south-east, to 
Lough Strangford, with its many islands chequer- 
ing its wide expanse of water, surrounded by many 
pleasant villages, so hidden and out of the way of 
the world as scarcely to be known; or the sharp and 
distant summits of the Mourne Mountains, raised 
by their Maker like a barrier between the 
dark South and the black North; or the corner of 
wide Lough Neagh and the Ban River, carrying 
away its waters to the north, and the Deny Moun- 
tains olosing up the scene to the west; or the vast 
expanse of bleak country, broken apparently here 
and there by streaks of green and yellow, seeming 
like crevices, only because we cannot look into -the 
wide, and sometimes fertile, but always densely 
peopled vales of Antrim, and Slieve Donough to the 
north-east, rising cone-shaped like a sugar loaf, 
lonely and alone in its pride: any one of all the 
prospects from the Cave Hill, when the sky is blue, 
and the summer day nearly done, is worth the stiff 
journey upwards twice repeated; and all of them 
together form a scene that, as a whole, cannot 
often be excelled, and in which there are points 
that scarcely can be rivalled. Dr. Chalmers loved 
eminently the works of God. Few men have ever 
enjoyed them more. A scene like that was to him 
a rich festival. His mind acquired more than its 
wonted exuberance amidst the beautiful or the 
sublime in the works of Creation. 

Very few disciples of Christianity ever grasped 
more completely the idea, " My Father made them 
all." But looking over this wide scene in the best 
part of Ireland, he could not fail to remember the. 
misery and sufferings that occupied a large part in 
the history, and the moral aspect, of a land sin- 
gularly rich in natural resources, and lamentably 
poor in their application. No shadow of the com- 
ing famine, fever, and sorrows, of 1845, and the 
subsequent years, then darkened the island; yet, in 
many districts, plenty and want, heartlessness and 
suffering, dwelt together. He was no sectarian 
in the narrow and objectionable meaning of the 
title, but he held warmly his own tenets, because ha 
could not yield a cold and frigid assent to any prin- 
ciple of faith ; and, remembering his own country, 
and the changes accomplished there in a Bingle 
century, ascribing them in a great degree to the 
religious principles that prevail in Scotland, he 
believed that the same creed might form similar 
minds to work out the same results in Ireland. No 
Irishman, of whatever creed, could love the man: 
less that the warm wishes of his heart were concen- 
trated in one of those expressive and fervent ejacu- 
latory prayers, containing in ten words the force 
and strength of a hundred, with which his journals 
and Sabbath readings have rendered the public fami- 
liar. Dr. Chalmers, it may be remembered,, suffered 
reproach in advocating the Roman Catholic Eman- 
cipation Bill. He prized the friendships he had 
formed in society, but while valuing them warmly, 
they were never permitted to sway bis mind from the 



path that seemed to him the way of doty. The 
Disruption of the Scottish Church was not the only 
or the first example where he set aside the claims 
of friendship for the paramount demands of pri* 
ciple. In advocating the claims of the Roman 
Catholics, he undoubtedly alienated for a time the 
affection and esteem of many of his former admirers. 
He could met therefore be charged with entertaining 
an unjust preference for the Presbyterian Church, 
in believing it likely to become a powerful instru- 
mentality for the emancipation of Ireland from 
many evils not less injurious than political restric 
tions. He had supported Roman Catholic emanci- 
pation ; he had assisted the Episcopal Church in 
various difficulties; he had attended in St. Andrew's 
at an Independent Church, while an ordained minis- 
ter of the Establishment; he lived in terms of inti- 
macy with the leaders of the English Wesleyan Me- 
thodists, and acting on just principles to those with 
whom he could not maintain religious communion, 
he was also a man of the most catholic spirit; yet he 
loved not less on that account the broad features of 
Protestant faith, or the distinctive lines of his own 
communion. Many rugged points in Irish history 
catch the eye, but to those who read it well, there 
is a soft and sombre sadness over the story, that 
deeply interests the feelings, and leaves the reader 
anxious that peace at last and prosperity would not 
be only visitors and wayfarers in the land. Dr. Chal- 
mers possessed this kind of interest in Ireland, and 
one rising still higher, from other and nobler 
sources; and seeking its permanent improvement 
next, probably, to that of Scotland; he expressed 
his oonviction that Scotland and England would 
not long be prosperous while Ireland -was de- 

These remarks have, however, diverged from the 
general subject, and arose merely from tbe pre- 
paration of Dr. Chalmers' life being committed to 
a gentleman so closely connected with Ireland as 
Dr. Hannsv — who has accomplished that part of his 
great task, now before the public, in a manner cal- 
culated to afford the best idea that can be obtained 
of the subject. We want not merely a naked nar- 
rative of events, chained together in chronological 
order; but the history of a great mind. If that 
want is supplied from the man's thoughts, written 
•s time passed away, with its changes; and illus- 
trated with the light which a skilful biographer can 
throw over them — we have obtained tbe most de- 
sirable result. This first volume is prepared with 
that object steadily in view. Dr. Chalmers still 
■peaks in a great number of its pages. The bio- 
grapher keeps himself entirely unseen. We know 
that he moves the panorama which is to pass before 
us ; that he searches out, puts in order, and joins 
the various material, but we see nothing of him — 
he is hidden in his subject, who is kept continually 
before the reader. We meet frequently with beau- 
tiful passages, belonging, evidently, to the historian; 
but it has been remarked, and we think correctly, 
that there exists a similarity between Dr. Chalmers' 
style and Dr. Hanna's mode of writing, that permits 
the reader to glide out of the one into the other, 
without perceiving a marked change, or being 
startled by an abrupt alteration in the complexion 

and construction of sentences. Perhaps it might be 
'more accurate to say that there exists a similarity 
of sentiment, and a devotedness of the historian 
to his subject, that, more than any mere similarity 
of style, accounts for the circumstance we have no- 
ticed. A similarity of spirit goes far to accomplish 
the end mentioned; and Dr. Hanna, holding .the 
same principles as Dr. Chalmers, living with him 
long on terms of the closest intimacy and relation- 
ship, and almost daily employed, since his death, 
amongst his journals, in preparing them for the 
press, would probably imbibe some part of his 
spirit, and even gradually fall into his style. 

Dr. Hanna has Bincerely devoted himself to the 
preparation of Dr. Chalmers' posthumous works; 
and his life. We know that, two years since, a 
desire was expressed for his presence and profes- 
sional assistance in a quarter that he must have 
felt difficulty to resist, under circumstances that 
almost rendered it a matter of duty to accept; that 
would have conferred on him great personal in- 
fluence, and insured a status in temporal matters 
equivalent to the highest hopes that can be formed 
in his connexion. The latter inducement may have- 
possessed comparatively little weight; but a strong 
current of moral and religious interests, and even of 
personal associations, must have inclined him 
strongly towards the acceptance of the cordial in- 
vitations warmly pressed on him. A deep feeling 
of duty alone towards the great work that had 
fallen into his hands, and which he could best dis- 
charge, must have weighed much in ' dictating a 
refusal that in scarcely any other circumstances 
oould have been given with a consistent and strict 
regard to duty, and to those high and immortal 
interests that he had promised always to promote. 
We may, appropriately, at this stage, notice the 
energetic manner in which the publisher of this 
important series of works has supported the literary 
efforts to render them what the public would desire, 
and have some right to expect. They are substan- 
tial books. The typography is excellent, the paper 
good, and the style adopted, renders {he vo- 
lumes remarkably easy to read. The outlay on 
publications of this description is immense. The 
sale requires to be correspondingly extensive, but 
that, we believe, has been obtained; and the vol- 
umes are standard works that will be current for 
centuries in the market of literature. With the 
greater part of that time the publisher and 
printer, who has hazarded a fortune in this work, 
or the author's family, have no . interest. Dr. 
Chalmers might have devoted bis powerful mental 
faculties to the collection of money. • He would have 
made an excellent banker or merchant. He might 
have formed a large fortune, and bought and en- 
tailed an estate in his family while his descendants 
continued. He followed another course,' and one' 
still more useful to mankind. Therefore, the pro- 
perty reared by him only belongs to his family for 
a limited period. He did not belong to party, it is 
said, but to mankind ; and, therefore, mankind 
agree to appropriate the pecuniary proceeds of his 
labours, after a given period. So runs the law. 

Dr. Chalmers was born in Anstruther, a little 
burgh on the shores of^ej^g Forth^near by 



the But Nook of Fife. Pairing ow the intro- 
duction, the lint chapter open* with • brief deaoripv 
ties of tha put, and now almost forgotten, great- 
see* of Anetrother. The family of Dr. Chahnera 
appear to here been connected with Fife for a con- 
siderable period:—- 

'With the county of Fife Dr. Chalmers* tomlyhad fcr tone 
•teantiaH ten eonoMtal His aveat-gnisdnther, Mr. Asms 
Chalmers, sob of John Chalmers, laird of Pitmedden, wis or- 
dained sa minister of tha parish of Eli*, ia the year 1710. la 
the following year he married Agnes Merchiston, daughter of the 
Episcopal clergyman of Klrkpatrick, who had been ejected from 
his living st the period of the Revolution. Undistinguished by 
any superiority of talent, the simple B a d n ess of Mr. Caatasrs* dav 
noaitiea eadeand sin to his parishioners, and there still lingers 
ia the neighbourhood a remembrance of the familiar and afleo- 
tionate intercourse which was carried on between minister and 
people. What the minister himself wanted in energy was amply 
BWAt op by the vigorous activity of his with. Brought up in the 
sehoel of sdvertfty, the had leaned the lesson of a moat thrifty eco- 
nomy. The estate *f Badarnia, pur ch ased by her ravings, oat of a 
slender income, which had to bear the burden of twelve children's 
education, still remains in the possession of one of her descendants; 
while, in the after history of more than one member of her 
family, the cue with which she had watched over their infancy 
tad aaaontfoa brought fcr* its pleasant fruits. Her eldest 
daughter married Mr. Theasse Kay, minister of Kilranay, a 
pariah i mm sd i st f jy adjoining to Anatrather. With tha family 
at Kilrenny manse, the family of Sr. Chalmers' father con- 
tinued to maintain the closest intimacy. It was to Mrs. Kay's 
sen-m-law, Dr. Adamses, of St. Andrews, that Dr. Chalmers was 
hteaea* iatebtad fcr has presentation to the living of Kihaany. 

"Mr. Coalmen' eldest son, the Bet. John Chahnera, DJ>, 
saceaeded his father sa minister at £11*, bat was afterwants 
translated to the parish of Kilconquhar. He inherited his 
mother's talent, and in his day was distinguished both as an 
eloquent preacher, and an able and zealous advocate of that 
policy wh tab than predominated within the Ohoreh of Scotland. 
Mr. Chalmers' second son, Mr. James Coalmen, having married 
Barbara Anderson, of Beater Anstruther, settled in that town as 
a dyer, shipowner, and general merchant. He was succeeded 
in a prosperous business by his second son, Mr. John Chalmers, 
who, in 1771, married Hitabeth HaD, the daughter of a wine 
atarahaat at Crail. They bad a very numerous family— nine 
sona and five daeghten— of whoa only one died ia eaimheod. 
The Mowing table is extracted from Mr. Coalman* family 

" 'John ttmuatrs and Blush** Hall wan married on the 
20th August, 1771. 



1. James, . . Jane 11, 1772 June 14 

I. La«r, ... Nov. 0, 1778 Nov. 14 

5. Barbara, . . Jane 81, 177$ June St 
«\ George, . . April 1, 1777 April • 
8. William, . . Aug. 31, 1778 Sept. 8 

6. Thomas, . . Mar. 17, 1780 Mar. 19 

7. Isabel, . . Dec. 18, 1781 Dec. 1(1 
B. David, . . May 81, 1788 June 1 
t. Joke, ... May W, 1786 May 23 
10. Helen, . . Aug. 81, 1788 Sept 8 

II. Jean, . . . June 29, 1788 . June 29 
12, Patrick, . . June 16, 1790 June 20 
18. Charles, . . Jan. 18,1792 Jan. 22 
14. Alexander, . April 9, 1794 April 13* 

" Dr. Chalmers, the sixth child aad fourth son ia this crowded 
teeaeaaU, was bora at Anatrather, <m Friday, the 17th March, 

Unlike many attar crowded families, this one we* 
not early thinned; and one of the disadvantages at* 
tending a naa a e ro sv* flock of rivals te a mother's emre 
was, that the neree had the maaagenteotof Thomas 
at an early age; and a bad name ahe appear* te 
hare been, sums the victim of her anger newer 
entirely forgot the treat atect he reoeired. Maav 

yoang persons derive their first fmpnmUin la MH 
from a bad nana, like the girl who find nay aha. 
motor indelibly on the mind of Thomas Chasteem 
It ia a great mistake to place the meat inexpert* 
enead servant in the nursery, if she be to rale 1 
in the " vice- maternal" chair, althoagh it te a < 
mon error, from which the world hat derrrod mane 
of the crooked aad perverse mind* by whom It haw 
n vexed, and made worm than it might have 
been, if that practice had been avoided. The boy 
m this instance ran away from the imrsery te the 
school, In the hope of esoapf&g from ealamittes 
which dally annoyed him at home. He waa not 
sent, but he fled to the school, when three yean of 
age. Infant schools were then unknown, and as 
he mast hare been regarded as a remarkably yoang 
scholar; but the teacher, Mr. Bryee, was old, and 
so nearly blind, that when he attempted to strike 
offending scholars with his " rod,'' the blows meant 
for them generally fell on his own table. Ha had 
an assistant, who abandoned his principal's rywtcca 
of discipline; but was nnfortnnate in his career, al- 
though a man of considerable parts:— 

"Though he continued for many yean afterwards to preside, 
Mr. Bryee had furnished himself with an assistant, Mr. Daniel 
Beamy, afterwards parochial schoolmaster at Cord areata », te 
whose ear* all to* younger children were ia the irat instants 
consigned. The assistant waa as easy aa his superior was harsh. 
As teachers, they were about equally inefficient. Mr. Banuay 
sought distinction in his profession by becoming the author of a 
treatis* on 'Mixed Schools.' His work won for him bat little 
reputation; and aa anfortaaate act, ia which, perhaps, than 
waa mere imprudence than guilt, lost him his ataattao, and 
plunged him ia poverty. For many y*an Dr. Coalman csav 
tributed regularly for hi* support. His latter days wen spent 
in Gillespie's Hospital, where he died about Bve yean ago. 
The Rev. Dr. Steven, who visited him frequently while upon hia 
deathbed, in a letter with which I have been favoured, say*:— 
' Ok one occasion ha spoke to me, in a vary feeling manner 
indeed, of Dr. Chalmers, sad ton impression mad* upon my ssiad 
was such that I have not yet forgotten the words he employed; 
" No man," exclaimed he, " knows the amount of kindness which 
I have received from my old pupil. He has often done me goad, 
both at respects my soul and my body; many a pithy sentence 
he attend when he threw himself ia say war many a pound 
note has the Doctor given me, and he always did the thing at if 
he wen afraid that somebody should see him. May God re- 
ward him!" The feeble old man waa quite over powered, and 
wept like a child when he gave utterance to these words.' 

" There had been a dash of eccentricity about Ramsay. Some 
yean ago, when the whole powen of the ampin lodged fcr a 
short time ia the single band of the Dake of Wellington, he 
wrote to hia Grace, ia the true dominie spirit, but with almost ss 
much wisdom as wit — that he could tell him how to do the most 
dfSeutt thing be had in hand, namely, to cure the ills of Ireland. 
He should just take, he told him, • the taws in the tae hand, and 
the Testament in the tither.' Engrossed aa he waa, the Date 
sent an acknowledgment signed by himself; aad for some time 
it was difficult to tay which of the two Daniel Bamesy was 
proudest of— having taught Dr. Chalmers, and so laid, ss he was 
always acenstomed to boast, the foundation of bis fame— or 
having instructed the Dekeof Wellington as to the beat way of 
governing Ireland, and having got an answer from the Data 

The letter to the Dake does not bear east Bamsay 'a 
oharaoter for dealing easily with his anbedars. 
Teachers most probably Vetesae inared to "tufa 
tows" at they increase in yean; bat Bameey'a 
distrMmtion of the governing power* is bad. The 
Testament should always he tried besbra " the tows,'* 
ia managing Ireland and g uvet uing acenol* ; aad If 


aifWatlr Applied, to Ireland than ha* been done, we 
might turn found lew we for "the tnw*" in contort- 
ing iU affairs. Dr. Chalmers' good nature was 
more apparent than hit genius at Anster parish 
eehool. The exercise* there railed to inspire in 
him any love of learning. Be went there not to 
find instruction, hat a refuge; and he appear* to 
have been often unsuccessful in hi* object. Few of 
ear greatest men have been precocious students. 
Wo have grate doubts respecting the propriety of 
taxing the intellect greatly at an early ago. 
Parent* who expect children to bo little men and 
women seldom get much good out of them. It will 
hardly do, we fear, to try and blot out infancy, 
boyhood, and girlhood from life. Art is strong, and 
training powerful; but nature will keep it* own 
against both, or avenge the theft at a subsequent 
period. Still the boy contains the germs of the 
nan. Great change* may b* produced by the 
agency of many circumstance*, by the force of ex 
perience, or, finally, as Scott has it, by the fere* of 
truth; but through them all the influences of iurhnoy 
and youth retain their places, sometime* searoely 
perceptible, but always real, and not seldom power- 
ful. The schoolboy character of Dr. Chalmers is 
clearly marked in the following passage*; — 

"By those of Ms sehooHfcllows, few now in number, who 
survive, Dr. Chslmers is remembered «s one of the idlest, 
Strongest, merriest, and most generous-hearted boys in Anstrnther 
school Little time or attention would hare been required for 
hint to prepare his dally lessons, so as to meet the ordinary de- 
mands of the school-room ; for when he did set himself to learn, 
not one of all his schoolfellows could do it at ence so quickly and 
so well. When the time came, however, for saying them, the 
lessons were often found scarcely half- learned — sometimes not 
learned at all. The punishment inflicted in such cases was to 
send the culprit into the coalhole, to remain there in solitude 
till the neglected duty was discharged. If many of the boys 
" could boast over Thomas Chalmers that they were seldomer In the 
puce of punishment, none could say that they got *>ore quietly 
out of it. ' Joyous, vigorous, and humorous, he took his part in 
all the games of the playground, ever ready to lead or to follow, 
when schoolboy expeditions were planned and executed; and, 
wherever for fun or for frolic any little group of the merry- 
hearted was gathered, his foil, rich laugh, might be heard rising 
amid their shoots of glee. But he was altogether unmischievons 
i* his mirth. He coald not bear thai either Wseooos. er blas- 
phemy should mingle with it His own greater strength ho 
always used to defend the weak or the injured, who looked to 
him as their natural protector ; ami whenever, in its heated 
overflew, play passed into passion, he hastened from the nngenlal 
region, rushing esMS into » neighbouring boats, when a whole 
stem of mussel shads was flying to sad no, which the angry 
little bends that Jiang them meant to do all the mischief that 
they could ( and erolaimiug, as he sheltered himself in his re- 
treat, ' rm no' for powder and ball,' a saving which the good old 
woman, beside whose ingle he found a refuge, was wont In these 
laser yean to quote in hie fitvovr, when less friendly neighbour* 
ware charging him with being a saea of strife, too fond of war." 

Paring bis school days, Thomas Chalmers was 
caught preaching to a single auditor, from the ap- 
propriate text "Let brotherly love continue," The 
circumstance is not of much importance, because, 
as we remember once to have previously noticed, 
most boys preach at some period of their career ; 
for the tame reason that they teach schools and 
play at "soldiery," without much more probabil- 
ity of becoming " dominies," or following a warlike 
career, than that of "the Queen of May to change 
bar crown of rotes for one of diamonds and gold. 

Thomas Chalmers left school early, and entered 
St Andrew* College:— 

"la November, 17*1, whilst act yet twelve yean of age. 
aeeempaoied by his eldest brother, William, be enrolled himself 
aa a student in the United OgHege of St. Andrews. He had 
bat one contemporary there, who had entered college at an 
earlier age, John, Lord Campbell ; and the two youngest students 
became eaeh,in More life, the most distinguished in hi* separata 
sphere. However it may have been in Lord Campbetta ease, 
in Dr. Chalmers', extreme youth wee net compensated by any 
p i e a s n tnrensss, or superiority of preparation. A letter written 
so hie eldest brother, James, during the summer which enccnedwl 
his ant session at college, is still preserved— the earliest extant 
specimen ef his writing. It abounds in errors, bath in ortho- 
graphy and grammar, and abundantly proves that the work ef 
learning to write his own tongue with ordinary onrrectaesa had 
still to be begun. Bis knowledge of the Latin language was 
equally defective, unfitting him, during hie first two sessions, to 
profit as he might otherwise have don* from the prelections ef 
that distinguished a&ilosonUical grammarian. Dr. James Hons 
Mr, who wan then the chief ornament of St. Andrews UniveaNCjr.' 

At St. Andrews College, a number of the prow 
feasors were " Ultra- Whigs," keen Refenriers, and 
what would now be celled "Badieala." They were 
also men of exceptional epioiona and views in a*, 
ligiou* matters, which is not a necessary, not often 
in Scotland— a usual accompaniment ef keen re- 
forming opinion*. Radicals, an they are c ailed, 
get no authority for their politics so good as they 
may find in the Bible, if they oejeiuUy read it* 
injunction*. Their opinion* influenced tit* young 
student. His father was, like many laymen in hiaday, 
ef mora evangelical sentiments than the majority of 
the minister* i but b* wan also a Town Councillor* 
of Anatruther, and the official influence ha po*. 
sessed in the burgh, for a councillor stood in no) 
dread then of November, made him a Tory. Hi* 
son deviated from hi* father 's ecclesiastical and 
political opinion*; and while the latter were reco- 
vered in a short period, many year* passed before he 
was restored to the former. Maahematie* was bin 
favourite study ; but he read the popular political 
work* of the day, and &U a warm interest in pell, 
tical discussion* r— 

" Other subjects, however, besides those of bis favourite s 
were pressed upon bia notice, not so much by th* pretensions of 
the class- room, a* by the conversation of Dr. Brown and his 
accomplished friends. Ethics and politic* engaged sue* of their 
attention, yielding to the impulse* thus imparted. Dr. Chal- 
mers, at the close of hit philooophioal studies, beeame deeply 
engaged with the study of 'Godwin's Political Justice,' a work for 
which he entertained at that time a profound, and, as he after, 
wards felt and acknowledged, a misplaced admiration. Bis father 
was » strict, unbending Tory, as well aa a strict, and, as he in hta 
childhood fancied, a severe religionist By th* men among who** 
he was now thrown, and to whom he owed the first kindling* ef 
his intellectual sympathies, Calvinism and Toryism were not only 
repudiated, bat despised. ' St. Andrews' (vie have his ow» test*, 
raony for it) * was at this time overrun with Moeeratisju, under 
the chilli ii a; influence* of which we inhaled, not a distaste only, 
but a positive contempt for all that is properly and peculiarly 
Gospel, insomuch that our confidence was nearly at entire is tea 
sufficiency of natural theology at in the sut&oieocy of natural 
science.' It was not unnatural that, recoiling from the unonm. 
promising and unekutie political principle with which be had 
been nwuW at Anstruther, and unfortified by » strong indivi- 
dual faith in the Christian salvation, he should have fob) the 
power of that charm which the high talent of Leslie, and Brown, 
and Milne, threw around the religious and political principles 
whioh tbey so sincerely and enthusiastically espoused; that ait 
youthful spirit should have kindled into generous, emotion at the 
glowing prospects which they cherished aa to the future progress 
of ear ^ sprang * sf pohucal ^.oipatian, + th* 


ha should hit* admitted the idea that the religion of hi« early 
home wa» a religion of confinement and intolerance, unworthy 
of entertainment by a mind enlightened and enlarged by liberal 
•todies. From the political deviation into which he was thus 
temporarily seduced, he soon retreated; from the religions, it 
needed many years, and other than human influences to recall 

" In November, 1795, he was enrolled as a student of Divinity. 
Theology, however, occupied but little of his thoughts. During 
the preceding autumn be had learned enough of the French lan- 
guage to enable him to read fluently and intelligently the author- 
ship in that tongue upon the higher branches of Mathematics. 
His favourite study he prosecuted with undiminished ardour." 

St. Andrews, we suspect, has never changed no- 
minally in some respects. Moderatism has always 
prevailed there, although occasionally a chair has 
been filled by men like Dr. Chalmers or Sir David 
Brewster. The politics of Moderatism hare chang- 
ed, and even the religions peculiarity in some re- 
spects. The Professors of St. Andrews for many 
past years must he acquitted of holding " Ultra- 
Whig or keen reforming views." "We deem it more 
probable that they generally incline to the jus divi- 
Mum, and oppose reform as unnecessary until it be 
accomplished; and then adopt some measure 
that they have resisted with the power given to 
them, as a final measure to be conserved with care. 
The religious element of Moderatism has also chang- 
ed. It professes now to be evangelical in religious 
doctrine ; then it professed to be very near Soci- 
sianism or Arianism. 

Although Dr. Chalmers, when a student, kept 
journals, corresponded largely, and had abundant 
practice in English composition, yet he seems to 
have been long defective in that department. Dr. 
Hanna insists that his earliest compositions were 
deficient in the imaginative and sentimental qua- 
lities. The sermons composed when he was still 
very young, and recently published, warrant one 
half of the opinion. They contain no flights of the 
imagination; bnt they exhibit a mixture of what 
might be called sentimentalism— occasionally in 
nndue proportions. We subjoin part of Dr. 
Hanna's criticism on this subject: — 

"His third session at the university, which had witnessed his 
first well-sustained intellectual efforts, had witnessed also his 
earliest attempts in Engliih composition. Here he had to begin 
at the very beginning. Letters written by him, even after his 
second year at college, exhibit a glaring deficiency in the first 
and simplest elements of correct writing. And he bad to become 
very much his own instructor, guiding himself by such models 
as the prelections of Dr. Hunter and Dr. Brown, and the writings 
of Godwin or other favourite authors, presented. A few of 
his first efforts in this way have been preserved. They exhibit 
little that is remarkable in style. The earliest compositions of 
those who have afterwards become distinguished as poets, or 
orators, or eloquent writers, have generally displayed a pro- 
fuse excess of the rhetorical or the imaginative, which it took 
time and labour to reduce to becoming proportions. In the 
college exercises of Dr. Chalmers this order is reversed. The 
earliest of them are the simplest and plainest, with scarcely 
a gleam of fancy or sentiment ever rising to play over the 
page. They give token of a very vigorous youthful intellect 
disciplining itself at once in exact thinking and correct perspi- 
cuous expression ; never allowing itself to travel beyond the 
hounds of the analysis or argument which it is engaged in pro- 
secuting ; never wandering away to pluck a single flower ont of 
the garden of the imagination, by which illustration or adorn- 
ment might he supplied. Those who, as the result of their 
analysis, have concluded that in Dr. Chalmers' mental consti- 
tution the purely intellectual largely predominated — that fancy 
was comparatively feeble, and that imagination, potent at she 

wis, was but a minister of other end higher powers, might tail 
historic verification of their analyse* in the earliest of his oolltg* 


His college life oommenced in 1793; and in 
1807, while Dr. Chalmers was on a visit to Lon- 
don, we find some memoranda of this same John 
Campbell, who has lived to be one of the first 
English lawyers — the representative first of Dudley, 
and next of Edinburgh, in the House of Commons 
— the Attorney-General of England — the Chan- 
cellor of Ireland — the great legal historian of the 
day — a member of the House of Peers— and now 
promises to succeed Lord Denman in the Court 
of Queen's Bench: — 

"Tuesday, Kay 12.— Breakfasted with the Hiss Hunters, 
and took three of them to the Royal Academy, and had great 
satisfaction in observing the increasing celebrity of Mr. Wilkie's 
picture. In going along to Somerset House I met John Camp- 
bell. [Now Lord Campbell.] 

"Wednesday, May IS.— Breakfasted with John Campbell. 
Much franker and more manly than in the first year* of my 
acquaintance with him." 

His collegiate career was diversified by a tutor- 
ship, which, from his correspondence, was evidently 
distasteful to him, and he retired from the family 
early in 1790, to be licensed as a preacher : — 

" Soon after his return, he applied to the Presbytery of St. 
Andrews to be admitted to his examination, preparatory to his 
obtaining a license as a preacher of the Gospel. Some difficulties 
were raised against its being received. He had not completed 
his nineteenth year, whereas Presbyteries were not wont to take 
students upon probationaaj trials until they had attained the agt 
of twenty-one. It happily occurred that one of his friends in tha 
Presbytery fell upon the old statute of the Church, which 
ordains, ' that none be admitted to the Ministry before they 
be twenty-five years of age, except such as for rare and singular 
qualities shall be judged by the General and Provincial Assembly 
to be meet and worthy thereof.' 

"Under cover of the last clause of the statute, and translat- 
ing its more dignified phraseology into terms of common use, 
his friend pleaded for Mr. Chalmers' reception as 'a lad o' 
pregnant pairta.' The plea was admitted ; and, after the usual 
formalities he was licensed as a preacher of the Gospel on the 
31st July, 1799. It was one of the tale* of hi* earlier life which 
he was in the habit in later yean of playfully repeating, that such 
a title had been so early given to him, and such a dispensation 
as to age had been granted." 

Some time elapsed before Mr. Chalmers mad* 
any use of his license. He proceeded to visit a 
brother at Liverpool, and first conducted publio 
worship in the Scotch Church, in Chapel Lane, 
Wigan, on Sabbath, the 26th August, 1799. He 
preached on the following Sabbath in Mr. Kirk- 
patrick's church, Liverpool. His brother, writing 
from Liverpool, said — " It is impossible for me to 
form an opinion of Thomas as yet; but the sermon 
he gave us in Liverpool, which was the same as 
we had in Wigan, was in general well liked." . . . 
His brother thought the discourse rather more prac- 
tical than doctrinal, and he complained of the 
preacher's awkward appearanee and dress; adding, 
that "his mathematical studies seem to occupy 
more of his time than the religious." Mr. Chal- 
mers returned to Scotland, and in 1800 he was 
studying in Edinburgh, while we hear very little 
more of his preaching until the middle of 1801, when 
the circumstance occurred that first introduced 
him into a coarse of regular professional service :— 

"While Dr. Chalmers was imbibing wholesome lessons from Dr. 
Bobison, hi. friend, Mr. Shaw, was acting » ism*** tots* Rev : 



llf.illiot, minister of Cavers — a parish in Boxburghshire, lying 
(long the southern banks of the Teviot, a few miles below Hawick. 
Having the prospect of removal, by the promise of a presentation 
to the neighbouring parish of Eoberton, Mr. Shaw thought of 
his college friend as his successor, and endeavoured to interest in 
his favour Mr. Douglas, the chief resident landholder in, and 
patron of, the parish of Cavers. ' It seems,' says Mr. Chalmers, 
in a letter to Mr. Shaw, dated at Edinburgh, June 1st., 1801 ; 
' it seems that you had mentioned me to Mr. Douglas. He 
asked Leyden about me, who carried me to his house on Thursday 
last, where I dined. Not a single word, however, passed upon 
the subject, and I am quite uncertain as to his intentions. You 
must now see, my dear sir, the impropriety of my taking any 
step without the knowledge of Mr. Douglas ; and that my busi- 
ness at present is to remain passive till something more transpire 
upon the subject. I have left my direction with Mr. Leyden, 
and wait for any proposals from Mr. Douglas that may occur.' 
; « This letter was grounded as a misapprehension. It had not 
been to Mr. Douglas, as patron of the parish, that Mr. Shaw had 
applied: the assistantship in this case did not involve the suc- 
cession ; it was by the minister that the appointment was to be 
made, and it was from him only that any proposal could emanate. 
Mr. Shaw suggested that Mr. Chalmers should come without 
delay and preach at Cavers, that by his becoming favourably 
known to the parishoners, Mr. Elliot might be induced to appoint 
him as his assistant.'* 

Mr. Chalmers had apparently mistaken the nature of 
the appointment, and taken a mere assistantship for the 
betterappointment of assistant and successor. The worst 
position of the two was not, at the time, unacceptable to 
a young man who desired to be independent, and was, to 
some extent, burthensome on his family. After several 
negotiations, he arrived at the determination to regard 
this southern parish as an intermediate place, having 
first secured something better in Fifeshire. The 
parish of Kilmany had become vacant while the 
negotiations regarding Cavers were in progress. 
This vacancy was caused by the death of Dr. Wilson, 
the Professor of Ecclesiastical History in the Uni- 
versity of St. Andrews. The presentation was in the 
gift of the Professors ; and they, to spare themselves 
from discussion, had agreed to exercise the right of 
presentation to parishes in the gift of the body, alter- 
nately. The fortunate Professor at the time was 
Dr. Adamson, who had the Civil History Chair, and 
was a distant relative of Mr. Chalmers, for whose 
benefit he determined to exercise his privilege. Some 
time elapses often between a vacancy and a new pre- 
sentation in Scotch parishes ; and Mr. Chalmers be- 
lieved that he might occupy this time advantageously 
at Cavers, but he was unwilling to incur the expense 
of taking up house, and therefore accepted Mr. Shaw's 
proposal to reside with him at the manse of Rober- 
ton ; thus commencing his career as a non-resident. 
Some objections were made to the arrangement, but 
it was ultimately completed ; and at pages 54, 55, we 
meet the following piece of worldly wisdom: — 

"Having secured a majority of votes among the Professors at 
St. Andrews in favour of his presentation to Kilmany, Mr. 
Chalmers joined Mr. Shaw at Boberton. 

" * Eoberton, January 13, 1803. 

"'Dear Father, — The people in this country are kind and 
hospitable in the extreme. Ton cannot conceive the kindness 
both Mr. Shaw and myself have experienced from the farmer* 
around, in sending us peats, hay, straw, to . Parochial exami- 
nations are quite common in this country. I begin that duty on 
Monday fortnight, and, as the parish is extensive, it will take 
me upwards of a fortnight to accomplish it. The mode is to 
divide the parish into a number of small districts, in each of 
which you are accommodated with lodgings, &c., in one or other 
of the formers' houses. I am now quite; free from sore throat, 
and the people in Ccvars hava not lost a Sunday sine* my arrival. 

They ire quite satisfied with my non-residence. — I am yours 
affectionately.' " 

It should be mentioned that Kilmany became va- 
cant in consequence of Dr. Wilson's death, only by 
the translation of Mr. Cook to the Chair of Church 
History ; and thus the interval to be filled up was 
longer than usual. 

In the autumn of 1802, Mr. Chalmers left Cavers, 
and spent the winter as a mathematical teacher in*St. 
Andrews. The session did not pass without some 
bickerings between him and the Professors, and it closed 
in a storm. Their opinions and practice did not cor- 
respond exactly with those of the indefatigable teacher, 
who, whatever might have been his views regarding 
religion, was at least a most industrious and zealous 
—even a highflying — mathematician. After the close of 
the session his ordination to Kilmany was fixed, and 
his father urged him to devote some time for reflection 
on the serious nature of the responsibilities that he was 
to assume ; but Mr. Chalmers objected to this course, 
arguing that if he had not his mind in a right condition 
before that time, it was " vain to think that the extra- 
ordinary effort of a few days will very essentially con- 
tribute to preparation or to improvement." Dr. Hanna 
says correctly, "The truth was, that in the greatest and 
most affecting of all subjects, the ground of a common 
understanding did not as yet exist between father and 
son;" but of the former, he adds, "it but remained for 
hjni, in faith and with prayer, to await the time (and 
he lived to see it, and was glad) when he should 
not only become intelligible, but secure the com- 
pletest and profoundest ^sympathy." The ordi- 
nation at Kilmany occurred on the 12th of May, 
1803. The parish is small; the population were 
few, and occupied in agricultural affairs; the situation 
was retired, and the manse was in bad order. The 
minister had calculated on retaining his " mathematical 
assistantship;" and when disappointed in that respect, 
he established private classes next winter in St. An- 
drews, and had another season's bickering with the 
Professors, from causes in which he seems to have been 
wrong and they were right, even if they were right 
from a bad motive. In course of the college season 
he became much absorbed in the business of his class; 
and, not satisfied with mathematics, he added chemistry 
also to the information which the young parish minister 
of Kilmany was prepared to give to the students of St. 
Andrews. A rebellious spirit at the time — rebellious 
at least to the Professors — actuated the minister of 
Kilmany; and it is remarkable that his Presbytery de- 
termined to bring his conduct under their review, with 
an intention of censuring his proceedings, "although 
for years his predecessor had been permitted unchecked 
and uncensured to do the very thing for which he was 
to be condemned." The members of Presbytery who 
brought forward the case were right in this instance, 
however long they may have been wrong before; but 
the affair was quashed after a discussion, long and ex- 
citing for those times, and in which Mr. Chalmers ap- 
peared as the strenuous defender of pluralities. When, 
subsequently, he renewed his chemical lectures at St. 
Andrews, the Presbytery agreed to insert on their 
minutes an opinion of Dr. Martin's, that the practice 
is improper, and ought to be discontinued. He 
became a candidate for the Chair of Natural Philosophy 
in St. Andrews, and was unsuccessful. Subsequently, 



he was a candidate for the Professorship of Mathe- 
matics in Edinburgh, and was defeated. This contest, 
however, drew from him his first publication, written 
for the purpose of proving that a Scotch parochial 
minister had, " after the satisfactory discharge of his 
parish duties, five days in the week of uninterrupted 
leisure for the prosecution of any science in which his 
taste may dispose him to engage." It was well for 
himself, for his church, and his country, that Mr. 
Chalmers was defeated both in chemistry and mathe- 
matics. In 1805 he became a volunteer in the Fifeshire 
corps, and succeeded in acquiring an intense distaste 
for the French revolution, and the aggrandising 
schemes of Napoleon Buonaparte. 

Towards the end of December, 1806, his brother 
George, who had been an officer in a British privateer, 
died. The sailor's faith and principles were more in 
accordance with his father's than the minister's; but 
the death of the naval brother had some influence 
on the clerical, and other bereavements that followed 
rapidly, passed not without effecting a change in his 
character. Of this first death for many years in the 
Anstruther family, Dr. Hanna says — " It was the first 
death of a near relation which Thomas had witnessed, 
and the deep impression which it made was the first 
step towards his own true and thorough conversion 
unto God." 

Dr. Chalmers made his first visit to London in the 
spring of 1807. He desired to form a connexion with 
the publishing circles of the metropolis, in which his 
name was destined to be better known than he could 
then have even anticipated. He travelled by Liver- 
pool, and kept an interesting journal by the way. In 
Liverpool, where he had many friends and relatives, 
and with which he was previouslyacqnainted,he stopped 
for some time, and performed some official duty. The 
allusion, at the close of the following extract to bis 
lady critic, is amusing : — 

" April Wth.— Left Lancaster at seven in the morning-, 
and arrived in Liverpool at six in the evening. . . . 

" April 80th.— Went with a party from Mr. MacCerquo- 
deie's to the Bonnie Garden. ... I christened bit 
daughter at three o'clock, and we sat down to dinner at four. 
Mr. rates, and a eon of Dr. Currie's, were of the party. 
Tee former eeeailed me with an application to preaeb tor 
him, which I have had the simplicity to concent to. a oircam- 
atanoe which I dielike exoeedinely, from the extreme awk- 
wardneesof my provincial dialect. Mr. Currie is a merchant 
of this place, eombinee liberaliem and fashion, ie an admirer 
of the Edinburgh school, and carries in hie manner a great 
deal of the ohaateoed amenity of a cultivated temper. The; 
are both warm admirers of Mr. 8iewart, a cireaiuetance in 
which 1 took the liberty of differing from them. I lament 
the provincialisms of my tone and conversation, hot must 
study to get over it by a proper union of confidence and 

" Tuesday, April list— Aeoompanled a party to a pottery 
about a mile and half np the river. Was delighted with 
the elegance and simplicity of the process [which is moil 
minutely and graphically described]. . . . Went to 
the School for the Blind, a truly admirable lastitotion . . 
Tbej have an hoar for music— the effect was in the higheei 
degree interesting, and the allusion to their own situation 
meet patbetie. Dined in Mr. MacCoi-qoodaleV The only 
gentleman was a Mr. Duncan MacCorquodale, a military 
gentleman, of an appearance rather unfashionable, bat 
accompanied with a most interesting modesty. To snob as 
those I feel attached by an impulse the meet kindly and 
bencvolont, and cannot but spurn at the heartless formality 
of those who could triumph in the timidity of the inex- 
perienced. Oh. how I like the nn trained originality of na- 
ture I Oh. how I dislike the trammels of a oold, UMess. 
and insipid formality I 

" Friday, April Sith,— I spent the forenoon with Dr. 
TniU, a ebemieai lecturer and practitioner, with a great £**J 

of ardour and philosophic simplicity. He snowed see bin 
chemical apparatus. The most interesting was— 1. An . 
apparatus for decomposing water [minutely described and 
diagramed] ; I. A glass apparatus tor decomposing water 
by galvanism [the Form of two vassals drawn, and the mea- 
ner of usinf thorn detailed]. 

" Saturday, April 85th— Walked to the Botanic Garden, and 
spent two hours in it. Found it of this form and dimension. 
[Hero follow plan and measurement** with notlcea of Us 
rarest plants.] 

" Sunday, April 89th.— Preached In tbe forenoon for Mr. 
Kn-kpatriek, on the oomtorte of religion, and in the after- 
noon on drunkenness, the former with far more effect end 
impression than the latter. In the afternoon we met at 
turn o'clock, after dinner, which has the effect of making 
both a drowsy preacher and a drowsy audieuce, Mrs. H. 
evidently reluctant in her testimony of approbation— dis* 
poeed to overrate the deficiencies of manner and pronun- 
ciation ; and asleep In the afternoon. 

He visited all the lions of Liverpool, and the last was 
the " Union Gnineaman,'' • vessel going out of dock 
to the African trade, as the name would imply. In 
his journal he says : — 

" We had the music of beaevolenee to drown all the relenting* 
of nature, and ladies waved their handkerchiefs from the shew* 
to sanctify what was iafiunena, and deck the splendid vakmy of 

the trade. 

The period is not long since the people of this 
country bought and carried slaves on their own go* 
count, and they should not now be very uncharitable 
towards their neighbours whose conversion has been 
doomed to occur some half century after their own 
change. Mr. Chalmers' "notes by the way " through, 
the heart of England, at any time of his life, would 
have been instructive. Some of them are inserted 
in this volume, and we confess that if more of them 
exist we should like them all. Blenheim is a thoroughly 
public place. It is almost public property, so connected 
is it with some of the brightest of military achieve- 
ments in our history. Mr. Chalmers being then a 
clerical soldier — a volunteer of Fife — was drawn by 
a kindred spirit to Blenheim; and the house built by 
the nation, like the estate bought for the great Marl- 
borough, delighted him muoh : — 

"Thursday, April 80. — Left Birmingham tor Woodstock, at 
seven in tbe morning; where I arrived at four in the afternoon. 
There was only another passenger in the coach, and he was 
inside — a sensible, disoreet, cultivated man, whom I aft erw ar ds 
learned to be a Fellow of Oxford, and who had evidently s fittfe 
of the rust and embarrassment of a learned probsajoo. I parted 
with him at Woodstock. I was immediately conducted by a 
person from the inn to the gate of Blenheim. For a particular 
account see Otmk, which seems to be written with great taste 
and power of description. The pleasure I felt was heightened 
by a variety of eireamsUaem which supplied nmnrisriims of 
grandeur. In addition to the statelineM of actual display, I had 
the recollection of its origin, the immortality of its first owner, 
the proud monument of national glory, the prospect not of a house 
or scene, or a neighbourhood, but the memorial of those events 
which had figured on the high theatre of war and of pontics, and 
given a turn to the history of the world. The statue of Lome XTV, 
placed upon the south front, and taken from the walls of Tour- 
ney, gives an air of magnificence far beyond the mere power of 
form or of magnitude. It is great not a* a Visible object, but 
great ss a trophy, great as it serves to illustrate the glory of 
England, and the prowess of the first of warriors. X spent two 
hour* in toe garden. Never spot more lovely — never scene so 
(air sad captivating. I lest myself in an Elysium of delight, and 
wept with perfect rapture. My favourite view was down the 
river, from the ground above the fountain. The setting sun 
gleamed on the gilded orbs of Blenheim ; through the dark ver- 
dure of trees were seen peeps of water, sad spots of grassy sun- 
shine ; the murmurs of the waterfall beneath soothed every anxiety 
within me ; the bell of the village dock sent its made across the 
lake oe my left. I sat motionless, and my mind slumbered is a 
reverie of enchantment," 

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From Woodstock Mf. Chalmers walked to Oxford, 
on May Day of 1807 ; and an old journal belonging 
to an old gentleman of the present day, places the 
ehanges of forty yean most palpably before the men 
of the current year. Ministers do not walk long 
jonrnies ifow, but some time previously Mr. Chalmers 
had walked from Edinburgh to Liverpool. The idea 
of Dr. Chalmers walking up to Liverpool would have 
amused, if it had not startled, the younger class of his 
admirers in recent times. Men do not now walk, 
and they do not, therefore, know the country so 
well as their travelling ancestors ; but the advantage 
is now, that more people travel than in 1807. 

Another extract shows the contrast in travelling : — 

"May S. — Left Oxford at seven in the morning, and 

landed in Lodgate Hill about seven in the evening." 

Some parts of Mr. Chalmers' life in London pre- 
sent singular contrasts with his subsequent principles. 
His great purpose ia served by their disclosure. His 
life illustrated two different modes of thought and ac- 
tion, and he wished the illustrations to be known and 
read. We take, in the first place, the work of two or 
three Sabbaths from his journal They mark the pro- 
gress of society in opinion and thought on the obser- 
vance question.':— 

" Sunday, Nov. W.— Walked en London Bridge, round the 
Tower, along Cornhill and Cheapeide to St Paul's, when I 
be«nf aervioe. After dinner, era (allied oat to Westminster 
Bridge, St. Jamea'a Park, Hyde Park Xenaington Gardens, 
and returned by Oxford Street and Blackfriars Bridge. 
Astonished at the display; tha dress, the earringea, and 
company, give a high idea of the wealth and extravaganoe 
of London.'' 

We need not say that London has now a finer dis- 
play of wealth than in 1807 ; but we doubt whether the 
Sunday exhibitions of that period were not greater 
than at the present day. 

From the next extract we do not learn that the 
Scotch parish minister considered attendanoe onpubho 
worship necessary, unless in an incidental way, while 
in London : — 

" Sunday, Hay 10th. —Too badness of the day prevented 
us from proa* outing any of ear sc h emes. Walked out be- 
fore dinner to Dnlwieh village, where we bad the fall view, 
of the country, enriched and adorned by the neighbourhood 
of the metropolis. After dinner, a round by Oxford Street. 
We returned by Blnckfriart, when, en paaant, we bad an 
opportunity of bearing the delightful musie in Rowland 
HOTa, and the roaring enthusiasm of another preaoher, 
whose sect was founded by a female myetio— Joanna Soutb- 

On the following Sunday he did, indeed, attend 
chapel; probably with some desire to see the King: — 

"Sunday, Msy 17.— Went to the Ktng's private chapel, 
where, at half-past eight, I was gratified with the entrance 
of their Majesties and the Prinoeas Elisabeth. His manner 
is devotional aad uaanVctod. I heard them all repeat the 
service most distinctly : and was mean, pleased with their 
frank, easy, and benevolent appearance. The view of 
Twickenham was most charming. Pope's house was among 
the delight! ol residences that we gaaed on with rapture 
from the opposite side. The river was eashriaed with 

Sleaaure-boata, and the gay Louden parties walking and 
linking lea on both sides gave cheerfulness and animation 
to the proapest. The Men, however, of vicinity to the me- 
tropolis fraflates all oar rural imptxaoaioa* of this fascinating 
seene t a k es off all the pure interest which the idea of aim- 
pfieity confers, and mingles with original nature the vices, 
nrofcawy, ssaet oowwpttona of eivtUeed Ufc We seconded 
Richmond Hill; eyed wih rapture the eonniry before 
us; saw in the rich aoene thnt presented itself the wealth 
of the first city in the world, spreading its embellishments 
over tbe neighbourhood. Took a boat to Kew, when we 
passed Hesworth, and bad a charming sail down the river. 

From Kow, we coached it to town, and reached Walworth 
by eleven in the evening." 

These pictures of London in the olden time, at 
forty years are bag ago, have a strange interest now 
to those who remember that London has, in the di- 
rection indicated, trebled or quadrupled all the signs 
of wealth and magnifloenoe since 1807. 

On his return to Scotland, the minister of Kilmany 
walked • part of tbe way, and we subjoin his account 
of another Sabbath-day's journey : — 

" May 31. — Started at seven, and walked to Biahopwear- 
montb. The country possesses no great decisive features. 
The bridge over tbe Wear is an astonishing piece of work- 
manship. I got under it in a boat, and made my ohaerva- 
tions [a minute description of the bridge it given]. Falling 
in with a man who drove a poet-ofooe gig,' rode to South 
Shields. Crossed over to North Shields for twopence, ia 
a Soulier. From North Shields I proceeded to Tynemouth, 
with which I was delighted ; the east fragment of the 
Abbey ia particularly beautiful Sailed up the river to New- 

We have allowed our remarks to extend too far on 
the early portion of this volume; hot it is that part of 
Dr. Chalmers' life with which the public an least 
acquainted. At Kilmany his theological opinions un- 
derwent a complete change. He entered the parish as 
a moderate minister of the old school, and was, w« 
may charitably hope, an unfavourable specimen of bis 
class. At his ordination, although described by aa old 
minister as " a lad o' pregnant pairtu," he did not con- 
sider any special preparation for his charge necessary. 
After he had been for some time minister of the pariah, 
he was ashamed to engage in the duty of family prayer 
when any of hie parishioners spent an evening at the 
manse. His first winter as parochial minister was 
passed in teaching chemistry and mathematics, at a 
distance of eight to ten miles from his church. His 
first speech in an eoclesiastioal oourt was in defence of 
bis own pluralities and non-residence. His first pub- 
lication was written to prove that a parish minister has 
five days of leisure weekly after the satisfactory dis- 
charge of his official duties. His first visit to London 
was attended by a course of what he afterwards regarded 
as apparent Sabbath-breaking. His first efforts to 
get into the universities were directed to the secular 
Chairs of Chemistry and Mathematics. His first address 
to the General Assembly was a elever pleading tor aug- 
mented stipends. His first struggle with the law oourta 
was for one chauldron more. 

We cannot wonder that Kilmany, its quiet manse, 
and humble population, were endeared to this great 
man. There a revolution most complete was accom- 
plished in the purposes for which he lived. There ho 
adopted new principles, learned to weigh all things aa 
he had never done before, and, in the emphatic language 
that he would have used, " was born again." The do- 
mestic bereavements that contributed to this gnat 
change ooourred at Kilmany. He formed there other 
domestic relations that endured until his death. He 
catM to the pariah a elever, worldly, scheming scholar; 
aad ha left it with a aobler mind, better stored with 
knowledge, nurtured by experience, rich in spiritual 
wisdom, and with all its powers devoted to the work 
whieh be did not comprehend when he undertook its 
pmkxmme*. Tha first volume erases with the ncgo* 
tiations for his removal to Glasgow, and his election 
by the Town Council as minister of the Tron parish. 
The transfer to Glasgow was not particularly advan- 



tageous, in a pecuniary view, and he had long ceased 
to consider emolument a matter of chief moment in 
such transactions. His election, by the Glasgow 
Town Council in 1814, was effected only after a severe 
struggle. The Evangelical party were beginning to 
acquire influence in the Church at the time ; but they 
were very generally spoken against. Society had not 
pronounced in their favour, and the brands of extra- 
vagance and fanaticism rested upon them. Mr. 
Chalmers had preached a funeral sermon in his own 
neighbourhood, and some gentlemen belonging to Glas- 
gow attended the service. 

They were anxious that he should be brought to oc- 
cupy the Tron Church, then vacant. His character and 
his talents were then partially known ; and the election 
created much excitement in Glasgow, and considerable 
interest in all parts of the country. JThe surviving 
member of the family, through whose agency chiefly 
Mr. Chalmers was proposed for this vacancy, informed 
us that, subsequent to his appointment, and when the 
genius of the great orator was acknowledged and 
appreciated, some of his Glasgow friends, anxious 
that he might not be drawn to Edinburgh, pro- 
posed to erect a suitable house, and convey it 
to him as his personal property. He thanked 
them for the kindness of the intention, and re- 
quested a few days to consider their proposal. At the 
end of the specified time, he informed them that he 
could not accept the house they proposed to build, 
because none of his co-presbyters had glebe houses, 
and he feared that the distinction might impair his 
uaefulness amongst them. Even at that time he con- 
templated the acceptance of a professional chair, and 
urged that he would be more useful at the fountain- 
head than working in the stream. He was translated 
from the Tron to St. John's parish in Glasgow, but he 
never accepted a parochial appointment out of that 
city. He became Professor of Moral Philosophy in 
St. Andrew's ; and ultimately attained his great sphere 
of usefulness as Theological Professor in Edinburgh. 

The first volume closes with 1814 — the presenta- 
tion to the Tron parish, and the commencement of 
Dr. Chalmers' busy life. All his great literary and 
theological works date subsequent to that year. 
At Kilmany he had been prepared and armed for the 
conflict he was doomed to sustain, and the work he 
was purposed to do ; he left it to enter on a life of 
anxiety, excitement, and labour, destined never to 
dose on earth — he left it to commence a career of great 
and almost unrivalled moral influence and power. 
The revolution accomplished in his mind at Kilmany 
was designed to extend over Scotland. The small 
Pifeshire parish is therefore classic ground in Scotch 
literature and theology. In it the leader in that 30 
years' war of moral and religious principles was 
schooled and trained to his task. His biographer 
skilfully lays out before us, from journals and 
letters, the gradual process of change accomplished 
there. No violent emotions marked that period 
The convictions regarding faith and practice that grew 
up in his mind formed a gradual, and not a rapid, con- 
version. Dr. Hanna has exercised great care in bring- 
ing all these points prominently forward in his narrative. 

The first Volume is thus one of the most interesting- 
that can occur in the series ; but the subsequent vo- 
lumes will necessarily be composed of more exoiting 
material ; and, judging from the present,and from other 
circumstances, we infer that the completed work will 
form a biographical narrative of great utility and ex- 
treme interest. 

We experience great difficulty in persuading people 
that the world is not becoming worse j and we are con- 
fident that it is getting better. Mr. Chalmers, when 
first in London, wonld not have opposed the free and 
full delivery of letters and newspapers on " Sunday." 
While travelling to Newcastle, as he took the post- 
office gig, the sculler and the boat, he would not have 
refused the railway. A great change has occurred 
in society on these matters. 

In London he attended some political meetings, and 
was displeased with the cookery : — 

" Saturday, May 83d.— . . . Repaired to the Albany, 
xn l dined with Mr. Sheridan and ISO of his admirers. The 
dinner wns wretched— too little of it — and the wont con- 
ducted I ever saw. Great tumult and confusion among; the 
company. I wag disappointed in all the speeches, and ranch 
shocked with (he extreme incorrectness of feeling discovered 
by several of the company." 

In addition to John Campbell, he met another Fife 
man, equally famous in his own department : — 

" Thursday, May 21st —Galled on Wilkie : took Basse II 
Rqnnrc in my road, and think it the finest in London. Mr. 
Wilkie is a man of genius and excellent sense, with all the 
■implioity which accompanies talent, and firmness to resist 
corruptions and flattery. After leaving him, I took a round 
anions the streets and squares to the north of Oxford 

The opera had few charms for the mathematician 
and the minister : — 

"Friday, May 15.— The India House— Deptford— the Docks. 
— We proceeded to Drury Lane Theatre, where we heard the 
comic opera of ' The Duenna,' * High Life Below Stairs,' and the 
pantomimic ballet ' Don Juan.' I am not fond of operas, because 
I have no taste for that music the merit of which appears to me 
to lie entirely in the execution. The squalling exertion of the 
performers is painful to me, and not a word of the song can be 
collected. Indeed such is the extent of Drury Lane Theatre, 
that in many parts of the house the most audible and distinct 
enunciation must be lost upon the hearers. The house was quite 
full, more decorous than the circus, and exceeds anything I have 
seen in the splendour of its boxes, and rich, expensive scenery. 
None of the performers appeared to me first-rate. The panto- 
mime I did not enter into. We returned to Walworth in the 

And if the public had generally the honesty of this 
critic, we are not sure that the opera would meet the 
encouragement it receives ; for nine-tenths of the 
audience know nothing of foreign languages when 
sung, and are not naturally fond of foreign music. 
The central pages of this volume, and by far the 
greater part of it, are occupied with correspondence 
and extracts of a most instructive and useful character. 
Better reading scarcely could be conceived. Anything 
more striking than the gradual uprising and purifi- 
cation of this great mind has not recently been pub- 
lished, and we remember no other work that is so 
obviously the history of a mind in its passage from 
listlessness to anxiety, and from earnest seeking for, 
to the practical enjoyment of, cheerful and confident 

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" You are, I hope, now prepared to accompany 
me into the presence of Beatrice. I took up the plank 
with whioh'I meant to bridge the abyss that separated 
me from her ; bnt, on going forth softly into the gal- 
lery, could perceive no figure, hear no footstep, discern 
no light, in door-way or window; still it might, I 
thought, be worth while just to go over and see. So 
I artistically laid down my bridge, and, stepping lightly 
over it, descended into the gallery on the other side. 
Just as I alighted from the balustrade, Beatrice met 
me, and, holding forth her hand, conducted me to the 
drawing-room. Never shall I forget the appearance 
it presented — I mean the general appearance ; luxu- 
riously furnished, and brilliant with light. For the 
rest I saw nothing distinctly but Beatrice, who sat 
down on an ottoman, and I placed myself beside her. 
On a small marble table, near her left hand, lay a copy 
of the 'Rime di Petrarcha,' in crimson morocco, 
which she had evidently been reading. Up to this 
moment I fancied I had endless things to say to her, and, 
had, in fact, composed forty or fifty dialogues which we 
must, of necessity, hold together when we met. I 
had now forgotten every word of them. She seemed 
to be in exactly the same predicament. So we looked at 
each other, and at the ground, in most edifying silence. 

"Beatrice's age must not be lost sight of. She was 
scarcely eighteen, with a soul full of romance — wild, 
impetuous, unrestrained by education or example ; for 
all she had learned and all she had seen only tended 
to emancipate her from conventional laws. She was 
a prima donna. All she had lived of life had been passed 
upon the stage, or in her own apartments, for though 
admitted into society, she loved it not ; her great de- 
light was to indulge in waking dreams, to build castles 
in the air, to indulge her fancy with the importraiture 
of an impossible lover, perfect in character and intel- 
lect, chivalrous, poetical, devoted, such as the young 
heart moulds in its tenderest dreams. 

" We spoke at length, and 'Petrarcha' suggested the 
topic. Beatrice related to me her story, from her birth 
on the Lungarno, at Pisa, to the hour in which she 
told it. According to her own account, every syllabic 
of which I believed at the moment, and still believe 
with unquestioning faith, she had always been as true 
a lover of honour as a Roman maiden. Of this she 
made no boast, indeed made no mention, though it 
was implied in all her words. She supposed I should, 
of necessity, take it for granted, which in all sincerity 1 
did. Over her beauty there breathed the most per- 
fect air of innocence, of candour, of confiding truth. 
Her face was pale, paler than usual, contrasting bril- 
liantly with her long auburn tresses, descending in 
heavy curls to ber bosom. Would that for a moment 
I could have used the painter's pencil, and have 
sketched and preserved the beauty of her face, the 
vol. xvii.— mo. oxcni. 



Author of " History of the Manners end Customs of Ancient Oreeoe," " Margaret BaTenscroft,'' " Egypt and Mohammed Ali," Jco . 

(Continued from page 789 J 

brilliance of her eyes, the rich ruby of her lips. I 
amused her exceedingly by describing the arrival of 
my guests one after another, their interminable dia- 
logues, the pipes and cigars they smoked, and the 
fears I entertained lest they should stay till midnight. 

" * It would not have signified,' she said ; ' I should 
have sat here expecting you till morning.' 

" The words were uttered in a tone so gentle and so 
natural, that it was evident she thought she was act- 
ing right. I thanked her for her goodness, and then 
spoke of the little visit I was to pay on the morrow 
to a neighbouring villa and gardens, after which we 
were to dine somewhere in the neighbourhood. 

" 1 It would afford me inexpressible pleasure,' I added, 
' could you be of the party.' 

"'Nothing can be more easy,' replied Beatrice; 'I 
know Signor Tibaldo's lady well, and can take the 
liberty to invite myself; so, if you wish it, I will ac- 
company you.' 

" Aboutwhatmywisbeswere there could be no doubt, 
so it was agreed that she should vtrite a note" early in 
the morning, explain the matter to her mamma, and 
drive, at the hour appointed, to Tibaldo's house. We 
then spoke of my intended travels — of Abyssinia, abd 
the White Nile, of Egypt, of the Desert, and of those 
regions and rivers still further eastward, to which I was' 
journeying. The strongest possible love of adventure' 
was implanted in her nature; and when I spoke of 
long joumies to be performed on dromedaries, of 
sand-storms, burning blasts, and hivouacing at night' 
in the boundless waste, her eyes literally flashed with 
enthusiasm, and she exclaimed again and again, 'Oh, 
how happy I should be to go with you ! ' 

"In this sort of talk we passed some hours. When I, 
at length, rose to take my leave, she accompanied 
me to the door. As my ill stars would have it, in- 
stead of drawing the plank after me, I had left it across 
the balustrades, whence any mischievous person might 
easily have removed it, in which case there would have 
been an unpleasant discovery. It was there, however;' 
and I hastened to^ascend and cross it, Beatrice all ther 
while standing at the door, and waving me good night' 
with her hand. I had not taken two steps before a 
figure rose at the opposite extremity. At the same 
time the plank was seized and shaken. I trembled over 
the abyss; and a voice, which I immediately knew to 

be that of the Count Z , muttered savagely, 

" ' Vat sail prevent me to send you to — — V 

"My position was rather awkward. On leaving 
Bologna, I had provided myself with a pair of pocket 
pistols, which I usually wear about me ; and now, in 
reply to my friend the Count, I drew forth one of 
them, and, presenting it at his head — the nights in 
Italy are light enough to show such objects— I re- 
plied, in an angry tone, 

" ' This shall prevent you; and if you do not instantly 
put down the plank, I will shoot you dead.' 

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" Knowing my friend's chancier tolerably well, I felt 
that I could calculate upon his terror. He did as I 
expected; and in a moment I stood beside him in the 
gallery, with one hand on his throat, and with the other 
flourishing the but-end of the' pistol, ready to knock 
him down. Beatrice uttered a slight scream ; but 1 
begged her to be silent, and go in. Instead of attend- 
ing to my injunction, however, in another moment, 
to my utter surprise, she was by my side, intreating 
me to use no violence. I said 1 meant none, but only 

required of Count Z , who stood their, hulf- 

choked with rage, but scarcely struggling at all, a pro- 
mise that he would be silent on what he had seen. The 
mock Count almost immediately complied, after which 
he retreated from the gallery. I then conducted Bea- 
trice back to her apartment, and retired, with my 
bridge, into my own rooms." 

Here, for the present, terminated the adventure of 

my friend L , on whom, when he had finished his 

relation, I bestowed some good advice. He was con- 
scious of the impropriety of his conduct, but would 
hear no reason. To all my representations he only 
replied he meant no harm, in which I believed him ; 
bat as the worst of all harms, the entire shipwreck of 
s woman's hopes in life, might arise from his pursuing 
the adventure, I intreated him to desist. Whether 
or not he listened to me will appear hereafter. 


Leaving my friend L to enjoy his excursion 

with Beatrice and the Tibaldo family, I proceeded to 
the house of the Governor, who had kindly invited me to 
spend thedaywithhim and his family.onthe Monte Nero, 
and in a short time we were comfortably stowed, chil- 
dren and all, in a roomy carriage, and on our way 
across the plain. 

When marriages are happy in Italy they would sceni 
to be remarkably so. In the present instance, at least, 
husband and wife appeared to be really one — wishing 
the same things, believing the same things, hoping the 
same things. Their children united them together 
indissolubly, so that it was no small pleasure to be in 
their company. External life, and that round of amuse- 
ments from which others derive so much gratification, 
were nothing to this military philosopher, who had dis- 
covered the utter hollowuess of the world, nnd fell 
thal^we most be happy at home, or nowhere. In search 
of happiness, when it has been lost there, men ma; 
travel where they please, they will never find it; 
tome mitigation of their sorrows may ba vouchsafed 
them in the world, bnt that is the utmost they can 
hope for. A blighted hearth means a blighted life, 
and wretched above all others are they to whose lot 
it falls. 

The Governor s lady was a true woman, whose chief 
happiness consisted in exciting it in others. No taint 
of selfishness appeared ever to have reached her mind. 
She lived for her husband and her children, aud all 
those with whom the interest or gratification of these 
b "ought her in contact. Her face was radiant with good- 
ness, with a c'jeerful benignity which made one feel 
perfectly satisfied in her company. Beautiful, in the 
ordinary sen: e, she never could have been, nor did she 
in the slightest degree affect it. Content with the 

charms nature gave her, or rather never thinking of 
the matter at all, her wishes seemed wholly to be con- 
centrated in diffusing cheerfulness and contentment 
around her. 

With people like her and her husband, one is soon 
at home, especially when they happen to have a host 
of children, who know not what shyness or reserve is. 
These little Italians appeared to mc the very beau ideal 

of folks of their age, cujoying everything within their 
reach — talking, laughing, merry, though full of defer- 
ence and courtesy towards their elders. One of them, 
a little girl about four years old, took her station on 
one of my knees, and soon coaxed her little brother, 
somewhat younger than herself, to occupy the other. 
With these blessed little companions I amused myself 
a great part of the way. 

The morning was bright with sunshine, which im- 
parted to the landscape a delightful aspect, such as 
mokes the heart glad, and Bets the animal spirits bound- 
ing through our frames. For some distance our road 
lay along the sea, whose waves seemed to salute us 
merrily as we proceeded. Autumn is not a cold season 
in Tuscany, aud therefore the refreshing breeze, cater- 
ing our carriage windows from tiic Mediterranean, 
was no unwelcome guest, Beside our track, on banks 
aud hillocks, were numbers of those small wild llowcrs, 
which, delighting in a saliue atmosphere, gem in all 
countries, the borders of the ocean, and impart to 
tbem a peculiar beauty, a beauty made up of wildness 
and freshness — of perpetual motion, contrasted with per- 
petual rest — of naturaldecayandetcrnalrejuvenesccncc. 
At intervals, scattered over the plain, were numerous 
clumps of trees, some evergreen, others deciduous, pre- 
senting a rare combination of sombre verdure with piles 
of redaudgold, sprinkled with dcw,andglitteringmaguifi- 
cently in the sun; huge buffaloes, couched lazily here and 
there, chewed the cud with serene satisfaction, while 
groups of peasants, talking or singing, carried on the 
labours of agriculture beneath that genial sky. These 
rustic sounds, mingled with the dash and roar of the 
waves, the songs of our merry driver, and our own 
voices, excited in us the most agreeable sensations, so 
that we arrived at the church in the best humour 

Every person who has visited that edifice knows 
that it is celebrated for a rare collection of votive 
offeriugs, made to our Lady of Monte Nero by the 
peasants of the surrounding districts, by enthusiastic 
wayfarers, and by sailors who have been preserved from 
shipwreck on the deep. Far be it from me to ridicule 
any form of piety, though I sometimes found it diffi- 
cult to repress a smile at various articles in the strange 
assemblage. Some of the offerings, however, were in 
the highest .degree touching. I particularly noticed a 
cradle, in which some dear baby had becu rocked when 
afflicted with grievous sickness; and, asHcavcn came to 
its aid, and restored it to health, the grateful mother 
dedicated this memorial of her love and tenderness to 
the Blessed Virgin. Many, many years have rolled away 
since then, and both mother and child have been, proba- 
bly.longat rest beneath the Tuscan soil — no other record 
remaining of them than that sweetest of all records 
that they were parent and child. Will my readers 
pardon me if I confess that my eyes tilled with tears 
at the sight of that cradle, around which cling such a 
world of domestic- associations? The heart knows no 

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resting-place so dear as the mother's lap, and never 
in after-life tastes of that profound and exquisite tran- 
quillity whioh settles on infancy in the cradle. Beside 
this was the portion of the keel of a shipwrecked 
»essel, from which all the mariners had escaped with 
life. Elsewhere, I observed the representation, in the 
rudest style of ait, of a pair of eyes, which a lady who 
bad been blind, and had recovered her sight, offered iu 
holy gratitude to the Virgin, Let who will laugh at this 
as superstition ; to me it appeared to be a monument 
of the heart's thankfulness — of deep and earnest devo- 
tion — and of a strong relish of life, and all that renders 
it desirable. 

The Governor, who read my feelings in my counte- 
nance, observed to me, in a low voice, that it is good 
to cultivate in mankind the habit of gratitude, the 
noblest of all the virtues which adorn this life, and fit 
as for the enjoyment of another. 

** No one supposes," said he, " that we enrich God 
by storing up these trifling offerings in his shrine. 
It is ourselves that we enrioh, by multiplying the me- 
mentos of our dependence upon him." 
. "And," added his wife, "it always does me good 
to come to this place, where peculiar blessings seem to 
descend on my children. Half the offerings you see 
are those of mothers, whose love, deep and boundless, 
seeks to develop itself in all forms." 

After walking about the building for some time, we 
vent forth into the lanes and fields, and strolled, amid 
beautiful groves and copses, till the hour for dinner, 
which it was agreed we should take at a small rustic 
inn, well known to my companions. At table our con- 
versation became more familiar and agreeable than 
ever. The children, who reminded me every moment 
of my own, wero infinitely cheerful, and appeared to 
inspire their mamma with* joy inexpressible, and, per- 
haps, unintelligible to man. Who has not watched a 
mother's countenance when surrounded by the children 
she loves, all in the enjoyment of health and happiness, 
and envied her the rapture— if anything so pure can 
■ provoke envy — whioh beams like a lambent flame from 
every feature ? I had long been accustomed to this 
pleasure ; and now, beholding it renewed after a brief 
interruption, learned to set a higher value on it than 

By degrees the Governor and I glided into the 
subject of politics, always full of peril among other 
than intimate friends. As I have said, however, he 
was a philosopher in the truest sense of the word — 
that is, one who is ready, on all proper occasions, to 
assert his own opinions, and disposed to tolerate those of 
others. We spoke of the prospect of a revolution in Italy; 
and, with a frankness whioh mighthaveproved misplaced, 
I maintained the desirableness of subverting all its 
established Governments. "All the world over," I said, 
" men are governed too much, and instructed too little. 
Government is the counterbalance of ignorance. Men 
require to be led, because they are not taught to walk 
alone, and have their public business transacted for 
them oflei contrary to their wishes, because they do 
not know how to transact it themselves, or to check 
those who voluntarily undertake the task. If man- 
kind were enlightened, there would be no such thing 
as Government, in the vulgar sense of the word, which 
implies the possession of a superior nature by certain 
classes of iaiividuab, whs believe themselves born to 

domineer over their neighbours. As the world goes, 
the art of government is the art of fraud. Why ? By 
its involutions and evolutions, its tricks and machina- 
tions, its delusions and hypocrisies, it plunges the greater 
part of our species in irremediable misery. To remedy 
t his odious state of things, we have only to disseminate 
truth, for when men comprehend their own nature and 
the nature of things, they will not submit to be ridden 
or driven like beasts, by persons no better than them- 

" As you are a stranger," said the Governor, " I do 
not fear confessing to you that my opinions very strongly 
resemble your own. What we chiefly want in this 
world is the recognition of the greatest of all truths, 
whioh appear to me to be the fundamental principles of 
Christianity ; I mean the relationship of man to man. 
We are all brethren; whereas, all the established Go- 
vernments of the world, except those in which the 
democratic principle is predominant, are based upon 
the idea that men are by nature enemies to each other, 
and must be scourged and kept in order by severe 
laws and oppressive systems of rule. Should the 
Gospel ever pass into our hearts, instead of its re- 
sounding perpetually from our lips, we should at one* 
become wise and happy; and to treat men as brethren 
is to destroy all the fictions, fallacies, and tyrannies by 
which society has been vexed for so many thousand 

The enunciation of these sentiments was, evidently, 
not new to his wife, who smiled approval at the 
conclusion of every sentence, and, when he had done 
speaking, observed to me : — 

" What my husband has now said, he would not have 
ventured to say before any subject of the Grand Duke, 
except myself. I feel honoured by his confidence, and 
it shall be my endeavour to inculcate his principles 
into my children. I feel these opinions must be right, 
because they are his." 

"There is another reason, madam," said I, " why 
they must be right." 

"What is that?" inquired she. 

"Why, that they are the doctrines," I replied, "of 
the great promulgator of 'peace and good-will towards, 
men.' That sets the stamp of divinity upon them." 

chapter xrm. 


I shall hero introduce the sequel of L 'a adven- 
ture with Beatrice, though it was many years after- 
wards that he related it to me, on his return from a 
protracted sojourn in the East. The reader will unite 
with me in condemning him severely, though not 
more severely than he afterwards condemned himself. 
Like many others, he discovered his error when it was 
too late, when, by the reckless indulgence of his own 
feelings, he had opened up a source of overflowing 
anguish to others. 

"Many things,"hesaid,had contributed to dissipate the 
ennuiwhich.onmyarriving at Leghorn, threatened to tor- 
ment me; butprincipallyyour society and that of Beatrice, 
who, every day, by the gracefulness of her manners, 
and the elevation and beauty of her character, rose in 
my estimation. The evenings on which she was not 
eugaged at the opera were devoted to me, and at 


time. Our first stroll was towards the English ceme- 
tery, which, as yet, she had never seen. I am not a 
believer in presentiments, yet, as the time of my de- 
parture drew near, a strange dread, increasing daily, 
filled my mind, especially when in Beatrice's company. 
Her friendship was the gentlest, sweetest, and purest, 
that can be conceived. An enemy to all disguise, she 
was frankness and candour itself, revealing herthoughts, 
hopes, and fears, with inimitable ingenuousness. 

"When we had walked some time about the cemetery, 
where the form of many a fair daughter of the North 
lies mouldering, we noticed, from the appearance of 
the clouds, that the sun was setting. Most persons 
associate melancholy ideas with the close of day, which 
naturally suggests to our minds the termination of 
life — when, in anguish and sorrow, the soul descends 
and veils all its glories and splendours behind the im- 
penetrable shadow of the grave. A gorgeous sadness 
seemed to pervade the sky, where mountainous clouds 
of gold, saffron, and amethyst, piled upon each other, 
seemed to ascend interminably into the empyrean. 
There was in them, however, no permanent vitality. 
Darkness closed in upon them ; visibly, the circle of 
their brightness diminished every moment ; they grew 
pale, they quivered, they shrunk, they vanished ; and 
one deep, sombre hue covered the whole face of heaven. 
It is thus that the light of genius ebbs out when the 
spirit is passing from the known to the unknown, from 
the delights, and loves, and friendships of time, to the 
dreary dominions of eternity. 

" Over Beatrice's soul, the coming on of night had 
shed unusual gloom. Everywhere around rose the 
most dismal mementos — cypressesand weeping-willows 
drooping tremblingly over graves ; white marble monu- 
ments looking ghostly in the moonlight, while the soft, 
balmy breeze, breathing lassitude and languor, disposed 
us to view the whole scheme of sublunary things under 
the most discouraging aspect. 

" Whenlfirat met, andbegan to converse, with this most 
ingenuous and fascinating was merely with the 
idea of spending a few moments agreeably. It did not 
seem probable that the opportunity would be afforded us 
of becoming so much even as acquaintances. Circum- 
stances, however, formed that acquaintance, and ripened 
it into friendship ; and it now seemed likely that, on the 
very eve of an eternal separation, the feelings were ra- 
pidly taking another turn. Some will, perhaps, think that 
they had done so already ; but if so, we were both un- 
conscious of it. We never spoke of our mutual feel- 
ings, but amused ourselves with building castles 
in the air together, projecting our thoughts into the 
long vista of the future, talking of impossible contin- 
gencies, and weaving up a romance which, on some 
future day, was to be realised on the banks of the 
Ganges. As this never assumed any shape more distinct 
or tangible than that of a dream, it had never seemed 
to me worth while to bring to bear upon it the con- 
centrated light of reason, that it might be dissipated 
for ever. 

"We sat down on the marble steps of a tomb — the 
tomb of an English senator, cut off in the fervour of 
youth, in the midst of dreams of greatness, and the 
throes of inoiduute ambition. A cypress rose at 
either end, and funereal plants dimly reflected the 
moonlight from t h :ir leaves, which rustled heavily in the 
breeze. Almost for the first time since we had known 

back: again. 

each other, there was a long, painful pause in our con- 
versation. It was clear that she had something to 
say, which, in her opinion, I ought to have said. 

" While all was yet uncertain, I bitterly reproached 
myself with the course I had pursued. I ought not 
to have conversed with her so frequently— ought not 
to have devoted myself as I had done to amuse her, to in- 
terest her imagination, to win her friendly regard. 
There my utmost desires had stopped short ; but I now 
felt that I had won more — and, too late, the conviction 
came that this was wrong. At length, in an almost inau- 
dible whisper, Beatrice said that when I should depart, 
life would lose all value in her eyes, and that I must 
therefore abandon my Eastern expedition, or take 
the necessary steps to authorise her accompanying 

" You will easily comprehend that that was a moment 
of extreme pain, of bitter self-reproach, of deep an- 
guish and repentance. It never occurred to me till 
then that Beatrice did not know the circumstances 
of my life. Because I myself was acquainted with, 
them I had mechanically taken it for granted that every- 
body else must be so too ; but it was quite otherwise. 
She had believed me to be free, and had, therefore, na- 
turally interpreted my attentions and manner, as I now 
too plainly saw they could alone have been interpreted. 
What would I not have given to have retraced my 
steps — to have erased a few short months from my 
life ! The excess of reserve, or even misanthropy 
itself, appeared to me, at that moment, more estimable 
than my sociable and fraternizing disposition. For a 
moment, all the force of my mind seemed to have left 
me ; but, in the best way I could, I faltered out the 
truth, that I was betrothed to a lady at Calcutta, 
without, however, adding that I supposed she knew 
it, which would have been a gratuitous unkindness. 

"Beatrice fell back lifeless against the tomb, audit 
was some time before, by my utmost exertions, I could 
restore her. When she did come to herself, nothing 
like a reproach passed her lips, except this gentle one — 
'You should have told me that before.' We then 
rose from the steps of the tomb, and, walking down the 
central avenue towards the gate, in silence, were let 
out by the porter. We returned slowly towards 
the city, and, on the way, I said all I could to explain 
or palliate my conduct. She saw it in the right light, 
and was satisfied that I had been guilty of thought- 
lessness, but nothing more. If I had admired her 
before, my admiration was a thousand times greater 
now. There was something so noble, so disinterested, 
so forgiving, in her, that I would have given the world 
to have placed her in her true position. All the temp- 
tations of the stage had produced no effect upon her. She 
passed through them as beneath the shadows of the 
clouds, that, when they are gone, leave no trace behind 
them. Nothing could exceed the purity of her mind, 
except that boundless spirit of forgiveness which it in- 
spired. Herself intending no evil, she was bIow to impute 
evil intentions to others. Her feelings for me, therefore, 
underwent no change, save that she now saw that they 
were to be combated and subdued. 

" On arriving at the city gates, we had the mortifica- 
tion to find them shut for the night; and no entreaties 
or offers of bribes could move the porter to admit us. 
It was in vain that I laid our case before him — that I 
conjured him at lea* to let the lady in, though he 



should exclude me. He *ns deaf to every reason ; so 
that, despairing, at length we tamed away in the 
greatest perplexity. I proposed that we should stroll 
down to the sea-shore, to which Beatrice consented, 
seeing it was utterly indifferent in what direction we 
moved. The moon shone brightly, illuminating our 
sad path with her friendly light. Beatrice sketched 
to me her future life— not for the purpose of heighten- 
ing my grief, or adding poignancy to my self-reproaches; 
she was too generous for that— but, on the contrary, 
to show me, she said, how a woman could act under 
the influence of pure love. 

'"I have a profession,' she said, 'which will afford 
me competence — wealth, even, if I desire it. I will 
devote myself to it heart and soul ; and should I ever 
acquire fame.itwillcome to you wherever you maybe, and 
you will say to yourself when you hear my name, " That 
woman loved me." Nor am I one of those who can 
shift and change. You will never see me other than 
I am now, except in so far as time may indurate my 
heart, and quench whatever is impassioned or vehe- 
ment within me.' 

" I believed her, and was silent. W e arrived on the 
sea-shore, and, sitting down on a ledge of rock, gazed 
upon the restless waves as they chafed and glittered 
beneath us in the moonlight. What a change had 
come over both of us within the space of a few hours! 
Her voice seemed to have lost its buoyancy, and now 
sounded full of sadness and depression. Nature, her- 
self, seemed to have changed her aspect. The roar of 
the sea appeared to me full of menaces, the moonlight 
looked frigid and comfortless, while the stars frowned, 
instead of smiling, on the earth. All within me was 
cold and chill, and, in order to change the scene, I arose, 
and led her back towards the cemetery, with the porter 
of which I had made a sort of acquaintance. On my 
knocking, he opened the door, and let us in; and his 
wife, a bustling, cheerful little woman, blew up the 
• wood fire, threw fresh logs upon it, and then, leaving 
us to our own reflections, again retired to bed. There 
we sat and talked till dawn, when we returned to the 
city. I was able to pass Beatrice into her own apart- 
ments without discovery. I then retired to my own, 
not to sleep, but to pace to and fro till the hour 
should arrive for proceeding with my carpet bag on 
board. I was sick of Leghorn, sick of the land, and 
eager, in the agitation aud tossing of the sea, to lose, 
if possible, the recollection of what had befallen. 

" What more I have to say of Beatrice is very little. 
On my return from India, I went with a number of 
friends to the delightful little opera-house at Palermo, 
where I presently heard a voice which I thought never 
to have heard again. It was that of Beatrice. She 
was rapturously received," applauses and flowers were 
showered in profusion upon her, and all the men in 
the theatre reckoned themselves among her admirers. 
I did not applaud, I threw no flowers on the stage ; 
but, towards the end of the opera, Beatrice saw me. I 
was then swarthy as a Moor ; but her memory was 
faithful, as the alteration immediately observable in the 
tones of her voice too well convinced me. I shall not 
pretend to describe my own feelings. I did not repeat 
my visit to the opera, and never saw her again ; but 
her name has since been familiar to all Italy, perhaps 
to all Europe. Her life, however, has been a solitary 
one. No man has called her wife— no child has called 

her mother. If fame be happiness, she may be happy, 
happy as I could wish her — that is, happy as it is given 
any in this world to be. Farewell, Beatrice ! and may 
the wrong I once unconsciously did thee, long ere this, 
be obliterated from thy memory. I meant it other- 
wise, and it is to be hoped that at the final account the 
will will be taken for the deed — Beatrice, fareweE!" 


Going to sea implies, everywhere, passing from a 
warm climate to a cooler. When we bade adieu to 
Tuscany, the sun was shining brightly on that lovely 
portion of Italy, and accompanied us for several hours 
on our track across the waves. But towards the after- 
noon, just as we were abreast of the barren volcanic 
cone of Monte Christo, a shower of rain came on, and 
imparted a biting cold to the air. On the left lay 
Giglio, which belongs to Tuscany, and appears bare of 
vegetation. On Monte Christo there are wild goats 
and water.and when we passed the centre of it the clouds 
were driving over its highest peaks, which they partly 
concealed, as they used to do the Dent de Jaman, or 
the summits of the Yalaisan Alps. I was standing, pen 
in hand, setting down the various phenomena of nature 
that surrounded me; the colour of the sky, inter- 
spersed with straggling clouds, and the peculiar hues 
of the waves, in which blue and green strove for the 
mastery, while the dull white of the breaking surges 
lent a dreary aspect to the 'restless expanse, heaving, 
tossing, and roaring on all sides, much farther than the 
eye could reach. 

I have the little note-book still in which I was en- 
gaged in setting down my memoranda, on which the 
rain fell, and half-obliterated the words. Showers, 
beautiful and poetical everywhere, are doubly so in the 
South, while they sweep like an artificial apparatus be- 
fore the eye; composed of dense columns of mist, . 
pierced by millions of descending drops, and partly 
enveloped with a mantle of prismatic colours by the sua. 
Many travellers affect to be of iron mould, and oppose to 
everything around them the nil admirari of Horace and 
Lord Bolingbroke. I do not belong to this class of wise 
men ; on the contrary, I am a sort of instrument which 
everything in God's universe can easily play on. Delight 
thrills through my whole frame at the sight of anything 
new or strange, and I easily invest with sublimity what- 
ever comes before me clothed with the characteristics of 
vastness, elevation, and obscurity. As we swept before 
the gale, along the shores of Elba, Corsica, and Sar- 
dinia, their grand mountainous outline, relieved against 
the western sky, inspired me with a strong desire to 
traverse their fastnesses, and stroll through those lofty 
valleys, of which we appeared to catch glimpses through 
the clouds. But my subject is running away with me. 
Successive showers of heavy rain sent me, before night- 
fall, down into the cabin, where another cause far more 
disagreeable kept me at intervals for hours. The wind, 
meanwhile, rose by degrees to a gale, in which tho 
Aquila Nera rolled and pitched like a stormy petrel 
among the billows of the Atlantic. Still our cabin was 
not altogether cheerless. - We were seven in number, 
two Italians, two Turks, and three Englishmen. To 
some of us the East was an unknown region, which 

but, in spite of this, 



almost fabalous obscurity. To me, perhaps, it was 
•till more unreal than to any one else. I have a knack 
of investing things, visible and palpable, with the mists 
of antiquity ; of yielding myself up to the potent influ- 
ences of poetry and romance ; of intermingling scrip- 
ture, profane history, and tradition into one vast mystic 
veil, with which to tapestry the rocks, precipices, 
caverns, and valleys of a distant land. The Nilotic 
"Valley was to me the country of the lotus-eaters ; and, 
through the superincumbent strata of Mohammedan, 
Roman, Macedonian, and Persian history, I could be- 
hold the genuine old mummy-making race, raising the 
pyramids, scooping out in the mountains subterranean 
palaces for the dead, erecting forests of obelisks and 
gigantic columns, and creating with the human hand 
an artificial sea in the desert, larger than the lake of 
Geneva, which still rolls and glitters beneath the fer- 
Tour of an African sun. 

Several of my companions had been in the East — one 
k Egypt ; but they had seen little or nothing of what 
I desired to see. The Neapolitan, in particular, who 
had drunk of the waters of the Nile, was too com- 
pletely absorbed by the worship of Mammon to dis- 
cover beauty in anything but gold. He spoke of the 
Arabs as " eaitita genii," and of their country as " una 
Maladetla deterta," which he would never visit but 
for the great gains he made there. He was a petty 
merchant, who believed in no divinity but dollars, though 
I saw him, on one occasion, fall upon his knees be- 
fore a picture of the Virgin, when death But 

this is anticipating, and I shall relate the incident in its 
« proper place. 

The other Italian was a Florentine, travelling from I 
know not what motives. Distinguished for his gentle- 
manly manners, and an extraordinary amount of know- 
ledge, he was yet shy and reserved; full of wild fancies; 
ambitious as Lucifer, when roused, impetuous and over- 
bearing, and withal a little vindictive. We contracted 
a liking for each other, which helped considerably to 
dispel the ennui of tho voyage. Of the Bey, Kafoor, 
and my Pisan companion, I have spoken already. There 
is, therefore, no necessity to enter into details respect- 
ing them. Of the lover of Beatrice the reader will 
have formed his own opinion. 

The cabin was a low room, of about fourteen feet 
by twelve, lighted up at night by one- dim lamp, which 
just sufficed to show us to each other. Everything 
was in disorder and confusion; chests, trunks, baskets 
of earthenware, hat-boxes, band-boxes, and a thousand 
indescribable articles, which ought not to have been 
there. The Bey and his slave had a very small cabin 
to themselves, but opening into ours, so that while 
in bed we could talk comfortably with each other, 
when the roaring of the waves without would suffer 
oar words to be heard. 

By agreement, we were to be boarded by the cap- 
tain, at to much a-day; but, judging by his physiog- 
nomy that he was not likely to kill us with kindness, 
we had all of us had the prudence to lay in some little 
supplementary stores for ourselves, such as tea, coffee, 
bottles of sherbet, fine biscuits, maocaroni, and vermi- 
celli. To a certain extent, therefore, we were inde- 
pendent. One thing, however, we had unfortunately 
forgotten, thati* to bring along with us a supply of 
oaps and saucers, things with which our Genoese cap- 
tauaoeraedto encumber himself. At tea-time, con- 

sequently, we made the discovery that we were to driuk 
our tea and coffee in large basins, which he had pro- 
vided at the rate of one for three persons. There was, 
indeed, a quantity of crockery on board, even, as I have 
said, in our very cabin; but this did not exactly con- 
sist of conveniences for tea-drinking. However, we 
determined not to make ourselves unhappy about 
trifles ; and at the proper hour sat down to tea, with 
a firm resolution to enjoy it. 

As good luck would have it, our whole party, ex* 
cept one, was sociable and accommodating. The ex- 
ception was Gaetano, the Neapolitan, who affected to 
despise the Chinese leaf, and therefore refused to join 
our meal, though he sat in the cabin smoking, and 
throwing now and then a word or a phrase into the 
stock of conversation. Ali Bey was ready to agree 
to anything, and took to tea-drinking as a Newfound- 
land dog takes to the water. He was at home with 
Souchong at once, though we had not a drop of milk 
to make it palatable. Our captain had got some goats 
on board, which he assured us, at Leghorn, were to be 
milked night aud morning for our benefit ; but we 
were no sooner at sea than we found that all the milk 
they could supply was barely sufficient to satisfy 
the cravings of their goatlings, whose claims were, of 
coarse, preferred to ours. Despite ourselves, there- 
fore, we were compelled to rise to the level of philoso- 
phers, and be content without this northern luxury. 

I wish I could give you an idea of our tea party. 
In the centre of the cabin was a table, screwed to the 
floor, without which precaution it would not have re- 
mained on its legs for five minutes. It was likewise 
furnished with a rim, about two inches high, which 
prevented the basins from tumbling iuto our laps with 
their scalding contents. Bread and butter we had 
none ; but, instead, very good biscuits, which we re- 
lished excessively at first. The tea, we had taken 
care, should be good. There was plenty of sugar, and 
the captain supplied us with abundance of hot water. • 
What more could we want ? Instead of spoons, we 
used a fragment of biscuit. Unfortunately, our tea- 
pot, the only one on board, was of earthenware, so that 
had any mischance befallen it, we should have been 
reduced to the necessity of making tea in a coffee-pot. 
We consequently watched over it as a sort of palla- 
dium upon which our social happiness was to depend 
for Heaven knew how long. I never saw a teapot so 
venerated. An African from the interior would have 
mistaken it for our fetish, and thought we worshipped 
it ; which in some sort we did, since it was to us a 
source of unequalled pleasure. 

It is easy to conceive that we had no soft divans, 
sofas, or even chairs, to draw around our tea-table. 
We sat on roughly -corded trunks or boxes, between any 
two of which we were careful not to put onr legs, lest 
the next -lurch of the ship should send them against 
each other, like two icebergs in the Arctic regions, and 
crush, as a Yankie would say, the intervening limbs 
to " immortal smash." Ali took his place beside me, and 
soon began to assist me in projecting my fancy into 
the regions of the East. We were perfectly demo- 
cratic, and made no objection to the slave's sitting 
in the midst of us; so Kafoor took his place on 
my right hand ; next to him sat the Florentine, close 
to Ali sat Mr. L— — > the lover of Beatrice, and then 
my Pisan Mend \ hut of all, GMtaoo, the Neapolitan, 



perched himself on a separate bosj and smoked in- 

As all ray readers will probably have been at sea, I 
can tell them nothing new respecting the economy of 
life on board. They know very well that a ship resembles 
a house daring an earthquake, when both floor and 
ceiling alter their level every instant, and reel, now on 
this side, and now on that ; your stomach reels with 
it, and it is well if it docs no worse. Bat this is not 
all. Occasionally very uncomfortable ideas suggest 
themselves to your imagination, especially if you possess 
the power to picture to yourself all the circumstances 
of your situation ; yon then perceive yourselves to be 
floating in a little wooden room, along the surface of 
a fathomless element, and, overhead, another element, 
often furiously agitated, and uttering fearful sounds, as 
it were, with a human voice. Pitchy darkness, mean- 
while, totally envelopes you, save where a single lamp 
illumines the little moving point of space in which, 
surrounded by a few boards, yon drive before the tem- 
pest. People, however, get used to this sort of exist- 
ence, and so did I. 


It is a prudent thing to eat as mnch as possible at 
sea. It keeps up your spirits, and prevents your ten- 
dency to basins and bulwarks. In obedience to this 
philosophy, scarcely had the tea-things, if I may dig- 
nify them by that name, been removed, ere we began 
to make preparations for supper. We could, in fact, 
think of no other amusement. The interval was spent, 
by most of us, in smoking, and collecting our ideas, 
for we were, as yet, so little used to our position, that 
we hardly knew what to think of it. 

One satisfaction we all had — we were in rapid mo- 
tion — though whither wa were driving it was not quite 
so easy to say ; that we were compelled to leave to the 
gods overhead, who were rushing about, stamping, 
swearing, pulling ropes, and invoking alternately the 
Devil and the Virgin to help them out of their diffi- 

As we were not yet quite frightened, we thought 
chiefly of our supper, which in due time was served 
up. By way of initiating us properly into the mys- 
teries, the cook had that evening determined to make 
a splendid display of his art and resources. There 
were soup, and stock-fish, and cold fowls, and ham, and 
beef, and pickles, with capital cheese, pale ale, and 
Cyprus wine. We were, therefore, very comfortable, 
and prolonged the Epicurean enjoyment till far in 
the night, terminating the whole with some cups of 
delicious coffee, pipes, and cigars. About sleeping we 
oared very little, as there was probably a whole month 
before us during which we might take that pleasure 
at any time of the day or night, if the storms would 
let us. We were now determined on making the most 

of the present hour. L muttered a few verses 

from one of Dryden's translations — 

" The joyi I have possess'd, in spite of Fate, are mine — 
Mot Heaven itself upon the part lias power ; 
Bat what has been, has been, and I have bad my hoar.'* 

No' feeling is more 1 universal than the love of coun- 
try. Ali was now returning to the East, and appeared 
to regard with indifference all the discomforts, dangers, 
and difficulties he might hare to eaoou&ter by the way. 

Sometimes, when the faculty of strong enjoyment is 
asleep within us, we shrink from approaching the scenes' 
of former happiness, which by contrast make us feel' 
our present misery more keenly. But when there is 
a large store of hope in the future, we love, above all 
things, to revisit the land of our birth, to wander about 
where we played when children, to conduct our fancies 
back to the very cradle's edge, and feel, if possible, the 
sunshine of a mother's face once more beaming upon us. 
To Ali, the whole East was a sort of home. Men of en- 
larged and liberal minds may associate freely with per- 
sons of a different religion, different language, and 
different manners ; but the intercourse is always fan- 
perfect. There are reserves on both sides. Half a 
man's happiness in this world springs from his faith, 
whether he be conscious of it or not ; and he never 
cordially sympathises with any one who differs in this' 
particular essentially from himself. To worship at the 
same altar is truly to be friends, because it implies 
that conformity of sentiment and feeling without which 
friendship is impossible. 

Above all men, the Mahonnnedans appear to stand M 
thispredicament; when pious they are mostpious. Every 
act of life is an act of religion. Prayer mingles with 
their habitual discourse, and their lofty and awful con- 
ceptions of God impart to their conversation a tone of 
strange sublimity. In the countries of the Franks, 
whom they cannot but regard as infidels, they miss all 
those associations which render their own land sacred. 
They hear no muezzin calling them to prayer from 
the mosque j they behold no one kneeling in house or 
street, listen to no pious ejaculation'; but, on the con- 
trary, if their prophet or religion be named, it is to be 
treated with contempt and derision. It is, accordingly, 
very natural that they should quit Christian Europe 
with delight, to return within the bosom of El Islam. 
Ali, on the present occasion, cautiously gave vent to 
his natural feelings, and, finding me tolerant, became 
more and more communicative. Kafoor's face, too, 
brightened at the thonght that we were moving east- 
wards, and that he should soon be in the country of 
Pashas, and dancing girls, hammams, camels, andkabobs. 
The two Islamites exchanged looks of pleasure as we 
entered upon the fascinating theme ; and, at length Ali, 
addressing himself to his slave, exclaimed, 

" Tell us, oh Kafoor, a story of Egypt, that we may 
pass the time, and store our fancies with pleasant 
images, with which, afterwards, sleep may construct 
dreams in the night." 


Kafoor, bowing low, in token of obedience, began " 
immediately as follows :— 

"There was once, in the most populous quarter of 
Cairo, a Kadhi, who had no fear of God or 4 respect for 
the laws of the Prophet ; all his thoughts were bent 
on the amassing of money. He sold justice to the 
rich ; he plundered and oppressed the poor, until his 
coffers were running over with gold and jewels. He 
peopled his harem with beautiful women; he built 
himself a spacious palace ; he laid out gardens; he sur- 
rounded himself with all that was splendid and mag- 
nificent in the countries of El Islam, and often said to 
himself, * Oh Hassan, thou hast provided for thy solace 
and gratification for ttHnj Tears,' 



" Bat, as the man who walks towards the sun sees 
not his own shadow, so this wicked Kadhi did not per- 
ceive the avenging angel that followed his footsteps 
night and day. One morning, while he tvas adminis- 
tering justice in the neighbourhood of the Mosque of 
Flowers, a Bedouin from the desert, in whose case he 
had decided unjustly, pierced him through with a spear, 
so that he fell down to the earth. Eblis took his soul; 
and his body was thrown, like a dog's, into a pit in the 
cemetery, where all the inhabitants of the quarter col- 
lected and spat upon his grave. The people then said 
to each other, ' Let us abstain from quarrels and con- 
tests ; let us never enter a court of justice; let us shun 
the meshes of the law, that we may escape the misery 
which Ulemas and wicked Kadhis bring upon us.' 

" So there were no more dissensions in that quarter 
of the city. Fear made men friends with each other, 
and they also desired to see an end put to the whole 
race of Kadhis, who would be entirely unnecessary if 
the children of the true believers feared God and re- 
spected each other. It is the folly of the people 
that constitutes the opulence of their rulers and ma- 

" Still, a new Kadhi was appointed, who came from 
Constantinople to settle differences, and judge between 
man and man. As he was a stranger, his character 
was unknown, and everybody expected he would prove 
himself to be a worthy snccessor of him who had been 
speared by the Bedouin. When by chance, therefore, 
any misunderstanding arose, persons chose umpires to 
decide between them, and everything was conducted 
peaceably throughout the whole jurisdiction of the new 
Kadhi, who in consequence had no suits to decide, or 
fees to receive. 

" As the property he had brought along with him 
was small, he soon came to the end of it, and began 
to be straightened for the means of living. The rats 
and mice forsook his house, where they found nothing 
to eat. He grew gaunt and lean, and his shadow was 
diminished. Friends he had none to comfort him ; 
and when he walked in the streets, people passed to 
the other side, as if he had been one of the children of 
Eblis, who breathe around them contagion, and strike 
people dead with a glance. The' little boys ceased their 
play when ho approached, and spoke in whispers till 
he was supposed to be out of hearing, for they said 'He 
is a Kadhi, and if he can but seize upon an unlucky 
word he will persecute our fathers and mothers, and 
bastinado them, and kill them, and leave us helpless 
and destitute, as the former Kadhi used to do.' 

" Sad, therefore, was the condition of this man of 
justice, who had no prospect before him but that of 
perishing of hunger. Naturally cheerful, he used for 
a time to joke with himself, and tried to keep up his 
spirits by calling in Hope to his aid. He had many 
books in his. house, some on law and devotion, others 
on poetry and eloquence, and others, merely calculated 
to minister to the amusement of the mind. Among 
these was 'The Thousand and One Nights/ which 
he read daily, sometimes laughing and sometimes shed- 
ding tears, as the pen of the magician laid open before 
him some nook in the regions of mirth or sorrow. 

" To supply himself with the necessaries of life, he 
parted, little by little, with all his library, and his fur- 
niture, and his clothes, till nothing was left him but 
one ragged suit, a prayer-c&rpet,_and 'The Thousand 

and One Nights.' From these, he said to himself, 
no extremity of misfortune should tear him. If it was 
written he should die, he would go on with these 
loved companions to the last, and would intreat that 
they might be buried with him, that a single ray of light 
might illuminate his tomb. 

"As his stomach grew empty, however, he became 
sad and sorrowful, and took up the beloved volume in 
his hands, and apostrophised it as if it had been a 
living friend. 'Ah, old companion,' cried he, ' I must 
take thee to the bazaar, and sell thee to some merchant, 
who will, perhaps, relinquish thee for a sum of money 
to some blockhead who will not know how to appre- 
ciate thy wit, who will confound together thy verse 
and prose, or will even lay thee on a shelf, to be buried 
with dust or eaten by moths.' After this he kissed 
the book, and sited tears upon it, and put it under his 
ragged cloak, and went forth with a heavy heart to 
sell it. 

" This Kadhi, whose name was Jaffer, had studied 
for many years, and acquired much learning. He was 
familiar with the old philosophers and sages. He could 
repeat the sayings of the Prophet, and all the histories 
of El Islam found a place in his memory. In a great 
situation he would have displayed magnanimity, and 
been full of dignity and wisdom, and the world would 
have hung upon his lips, and he would have been ennn- 
merated with Bocrat, and Aricenna, and Aristotle ; but 
being penniless, and wanting a dinner, he was obliged 
to bring down his thoughts to his situation. Accor- 
dingly, as he walked along the streets of Cairo, his 
mind was occupied with nothing but the cookshops, 
and the bakers, and the sellers of fruit, and coffee, and 
tobacco. For many weeks no man had offered him a 
pipe, and it was now two days since he had tasted 
bread ; he therefore felt very weak and very humble. 
More than once the idea presented itself to him 
that it would be better to beg than perish of want. 
However, there was still some pride left in his mind, 
and also some love of literature, for he hugged the. 
book to his bosom, and felt as if he were about to be 
separated from a part of his soul. 

"As he moved almost totteringly along, in this frame 
of thought, he came to the door of a baker's shop, 
from which issued a most savoury odour. It was 
some great [festival day, and all the people of El 
Islam had made preparations for enjoying it, each in 
his own way. The baker's counter was covered with 
delicate dishes, and among these was a wild goose, 
which he had just taken from the oven as the Kadhi 
stopped. It was saturated with delicate fresh butter, 
and stuffed with sweet almonds, and comfits, and 
odoriferous herbs. It had been reduced by the heat, 
to the colour of gold, so that the eye, as well as the 
sense of smelling, was attracted by it. The poor 
Kadhi, Jaffer, losing sight of his wisdom and his philo- 
sophy, of his books of law, and even of ' The Thou- 
sand and One Nights/ found all his ideas centred upon 
a goose. He looked first at it, and then at the baker's 
face, encouraged by the good-natured expression of 
which, he immediately formed a bold design, and en- 
tered the shop. 

" ' Peace be with yon,' said he to the baker. ' May 
your house be fortunate; may your daughters be all 
beautiful, and your sons all brave! I am under the. 
influence of misfortune. The star^of my destiny is 

-Mere and back again: 


eclipsed. I am hungry; and there is none among the 
children of the faithful who will give me to eat. Earn 
the blessing of a diligent student of the book — give 
me a slice of that goose.' 

" 'Friend,' answered the baker, 'this goose is not 
mine. It belongs to a pipe-seller in the neighbour- 
hood, whose slave will be here presently to fetch it. 
"What, therefore, should I say to her, were I to do as 
thou desirest?' 

■ " The Kadhi, not to be thus defeated, looked around 
him, and saw that there was a little apartment behind 
the shop. Seizing the dish which held the wild goose, 
and looking entreatingly into the face of the baker, 
he said — 

" ' Leave all consideration of the future to me. I 
am the Kadhi; and if they bring you before me, you 
can easily invent a story which will enable me to ac- 
quit you.' 

'"I have no learning,' answered the baker, * and 
my inventive faculties are dull. It will, therefore, be 
impossible for me to say anything which would not, 
under such circumstances, heap additional dust upon 
my head.' 

" ' If you had not tasted food for two days,' 
answered the Kadhi, ' you would be full of invention. 
When the slave comes for the goose, you will relate 
to her that, at the very moment you were taking it 
out of the oven, a flight of wild geese passed through 
the air, over your house, and paused for a moment, 
and cried, " Oh, brother, leave that vessel in which 
thou art confined, and spread thy wings, and come, 
at the command of the Prophet, and join us in the 
sky." Upon which, yon wUl add, the baked goose 
agitated itself in the dish, and spread its wings, from 
which feathers immediately shot forth. It then poised 
itself for an instant in the air, over the counter, and 
darting forth through the door, ascended into the 
sky, and flew away to the desert with its companions.' 

" ' And will they believe this story ?' inquired the 

"'No matter whether they believe it or not,' re- 
plied the Kadhi, ' since I, who shall be on the judg- 
ment-seat, will believe, and dismiss the case.' 

" It required no further persuasion to induce the 
good-natured baker to yield ; so they retired together 
into the little apartment behind the shop, where, with 
nice little white rolls, supplied from his own stock, 
they, between them, devoured the goose, and picked 
its bones until there was not a vestige of it left. Then 
the Kadhi, feeling happy for the first time since his 
arrival in Cairo, left the shop, and returned towards 
his own house, blessing the Prophet, as he went, for 
the ingenious contrivance with which he had inspired 
him. The delicate fumes of the goose ascended to his 
brain, and created visions of future felicity, so that he 
was nearly as much exhilarated as those who take 

" ' Truly, Jaffer,' said he to himself, ' thy wit is as 
valuable to thee as an estate in land. Who knows 
but this may be the beginning of prosperity ? Think 
no more of selling ' The Thousand and One Nights,' 
hut prepare to judge - wisely when the case of the 
baker comes before thee, and thou shalt have occa- 
sion to display at once thy prudence and thy elo 
quence. Thou wilt charm the people of Cairo, who, 
above all men, love to laugh; and they will come to 

thee with their suits and differences, aud thou wflt 
decide agreeably, and thy fame and thy riches will 



" While the Kadhi was indulging in these pleasant 
anticipations, things were not going on quite so satisfac- 
torily with the baker. Scarcely had the ragged cloak of 
the Kadhi turned the corner of the street, ere the pipe- 
seller's female slave entered the shop, and demanded 
the goose she had brought thither in the morning. 

'"Oh, slave!' exclaimed the baker, 'as I was 
withdrawing the bird from my oven, a flight of wild 
geese, with clanging wings, passed over my house, and 
cried, " Brother ! leave thy imprisonment in the shop 
of that wicked baker, and come and join us, thy bre- 
thren, in the sky." No sooner had they uttered these 
words than the goose obeyed their invitation, and left 
me, in terror and astonishment, to account for its dis- 
appearance as I best might.' 

" ' This, oh .baker, is a fable !' exclaimed the slave. 
' I will return and relate it to my master, who will 
assuredly take thee before the Kadhi, and have thee 
well bastinadoed for attempting to put upon him this- 
impudent imposture.' 

" Among the baker's other customers, who heard 
this story, some put faith in his words, while the rest 
sided with the slave. A fierce dispute arose between 
them, which gave rise to violent language, and throw- 
ing of dust, and blows. The women rent each others' 
blue garments, and the men doubled up their fists and 
applied them to each others' faces, and there was 
brawling, and swearing, and a great noise. 

"Just at this moment the pipe-seller entered the 
shop, with rage and fury in his countenauce. He 
rushed at the baker, and seized him, and cried, ' Oh, 
impudent wretch ! thy dishonesty will compel me to 
break through the regulations of the quarter, and drag 
thee before the Kadhi. The poor baker endeavoured 
to explain, but the pipe-seller would hear no reason ; 
and, being a far more powerful man, dragged him forth 
from the shop by his beard, uttering loud imprecations 
against him for the loss of his dinner. Many of the 
neighbours left their dishes upon the counter, and fol- 
lowed towards the Kadhi's. * 

" Nothing is easier in Cairo than to collect a crowd. 
A man has but to stop and look up at a particular 
window, and numbers will presently surround him, 
and cast up their eyes towards the very spot on which 
he has fixed his. At first they all stand thus in 
silence ; and when some individual, more impatient 
than the rest, begins to make inquiries, a thousand 
reasons will be given, and everybody will expect that 
some wonderful event is about to happen. 

" On the present occasion there existed cause suf- 
ficient for collecting together a multitude. No one 
had appealed to the Kadhi for many months; the 
business of justice was in abeyance, and people had 
lived peaceably without the aid of the law. The pipe- 
seller's act, therefore, was looked upon as an innova- 
tion, as something at once wicked and interesting, of 
which everybody desired to see the end. Accordingly 
the crowd increased every minute — men, women, chil- 
dren, dervishes, fakirs, eunuchs, some on foot, other*. 



on asses, hurried pell-mell after the pipe-seller and the 
baker, wondering, chattering, inquiring, answering, 
conjecturing, and speculating, in endless confusion. 
Ladies rushed to the -windows of their harems and 
looked out. Devotees arose from their prayer-carpels 
and joined the throng. Mosques were emptied of their 
worshippers ; merchants, buyers, and slaves quitted the 
bazaars ; so that there appeared to be a universal com- 
motion, as if the day of the end of the world had ar- 
rived. It was a strange sight to see so many heads 
in one street, so much flaunting of blue tassels, so 
much waving and bobbing up and down of turbans, 
so much crushing of silk hoods, so much thronging, 
pressing, screaming, cursing, that Gehenham appeared 
to have been let loose, and all the devils to have been 
seized with a sudden desire for justice. 

" Thus the pipe-seller and the baker kept in front of 
the multitude, and their attention was presently arrested 
by a poor seller of cauliflowers, whose ass had fallen 
under his overloaded panniers. It was the baker's 
misfortune to sympathise with every one in distress, 
so he requested the pipe-seller to let go his hold for a 
moment, that he might assist in raising up the beast. 
Upon finding himself at liberty, he seized vigorously 
upon the ass's tail, and, desiring his owner to do his 
best at the animal's other end, applied so much 
strength and energy to the task, that the tail, which 
had been often twisted cruelly by way of punishment, 
eame off in his hand. 

" Then the cauliflower-vender, instead of feeling 
grateful to the baker for his kind intentions, sprang 
up and seized him by the shoulder, and assisted the 
pipe-seller in dragging him towards the place of jus- 
tice. The multitude shouted, partly in mirth, partly 
in anger, and there was an increased hubbub. 

" The offender now began to reflect within himself, 
that, teeing this prodigious gathering of people, the 
Kadhi might choose to forget the transaction of the 
morning, and, in order to gain favour with the public, 
sentence him to be severely bastinadoed. At the 
very idea, the soles of his feet began to tingle ; his 
blood became hot ; his heart beat violently; and the 
whole street seemed to turn round, as it does to the 
whirling Dervishes after their performances. So he 
cast about within himself for some means of escape, 
and uttered an inward ejaculation to the Prophet 
entreating him to favour his design. 

" It happened that, in that very street, there lived 
a merchant, who, in the decline of his age, had married 
a young wife, who was now, after several years, about 
to present him with an heir to his riches. This hope 
filled him with so much joy that he never quitted her 
side, but watched over her and prayed for her ; and, 
humbling himself to the condition of a slave, duriug 
the heat of the day fanned her with his own hands, 
and sought to make her feel the extreme of felicity. 
She was at this moment sitting on a marble mastabah 
beside her door ; and the merchant, with a fan of palm 
leaves in his hand, was engaged in gently cooling her 
face. Around were orange trees, and the henna 
shrub in full flower, and willows, and poplars, and two 
lofty date palms, which waved their pendent leaves 
and golden fruits over the heads of the family. Two 
female slaves sat beside their mistress, one on either 
side, embroidering veils and dresses for her; so that 
Ute whole presented a complete picture of pleasure 

and contentment. By no means aware of this, the 
baker perceiving the court-door of the house open, and 
thinking it might possibly lead to some alley, or laue, 
or garden, dashed away from the pipe-seller and the 
cauliflower-vender, rau to the court, and, turning 
round, bolted the door after him. But this only the 
more enraged those without, who, applying their 
shoulders to the door, forced it in, and rushed after 
the baker, the vast multitude following, yelling, shout- 
ing, and screaming, like so many Ghouls or Efrits, 
which so terri&ed the merchant's wife, that she im- 
mediately miscarried. 

" The baker's calamities had now reached a climax. 
The enraged husband accused him of murder, and, 
seizing him by the throat, assisted the pipe-seller and 
cauliflower-vender in dragging him before the Kadhi. 
Being still more furious than cither of his former ac- 
cusers, he, moreover, struck him several blows in the 
face, the unfortunate man offering no resistance, aud 
would have continued to maltreat him in this way, but 
that the foremost of the crowd ordered him to desist. 

"In a short time they arrived at the spacious court, 
where the Kadhi sat in full expectation. He looked 
stern and grave as they entered ; and the baker's heart 
sank within him when he observed the austerity of his 
countenance, aud reflected on the number and vehe- 
mence of those who were come to demand justice 
against him. The disappointed merchant began ; but 
the Kadhi, having inquired into the chronology of the 
offences, ordered the pipe-seller to state his case first. 
He then, with the manner and gesture of a hungry 
man, related the history of the wild goose, dwelling 
with peculiar emphasis on the impudence of endea- 
vouring to make him believe that the animal had been 
miraculously restored to life, and joined the other wild 
geese in the sky. As the Kadhi expected and wished, 
the multitude had followed the accusers and the 
culprit into the court, and now, with half-open 
mouths, looked on and listened, that they might judge 
by the tenor of his first decisions what his future 
career as a Kadhi was likely to be. 

" When Jafler had heard the pipe-seller to an end, 
he said, ' This baker appears to be one of the wicked. 
What you lay to his charge is an act of great disho- 
nesty ; for the eating of a wild goose is as bad as the 
eating of a tame goose, and the bastinado must be his 
puuishment if the charge be made good against him. 
You have, doubtless, brought along with you witnesses 
to prove that when the bird was taken out of the oven 
it did not fly away ; for, according to the laws and 
precepts of El Islam, punishment is not to be inflicted 
unless the crime can be proved by witnesses.' 

"Upon this the pipe -seller became enraged, and 
said it was surely not necessary to bring forward wit- 
nesses to prove that what was impossible had not 

" The Kadhi, then, after uttering a pious ejacula- 
tion, addressed himself to the pipe-seller, and said, 'Oh, 
wicked man, know you not that to talk of such an 
event as a thing impossible, is to limit the power of 
God. Go home, therefore, and study more accurately 
the precepts of the book, in which had you believed 
you would not have brought against this man an ac- 
cusation which now appears to be as false as malicious. 
I dismiss the case.' 

" The cauliflower-vender, who was now called upon, 

Digitized by LjOOg 1C 



felt fully confident of success, as- ho had brought along 
with him the ass's tail in his hand, while he could appeal 
to hundreds of those present as witnesses. The 
Kadhi listened patiently to his recital, and, when he had 
concluded, said, ' Friend, you appear to have suffered 
a real injury ; I therefore condemn the baker to take 
home your ass, and keep it, feed it, and take care of it 
till its tail shall grow again.' 

" The multitude, delighted with the merry humour of 
the Kadhi, now burst into shouts of laughter, and 
greatly applanded him for the wisdom of his decisions ; 
and the cauliflower- vender was too happy to sneak quietly 
away, in the hope that he might find his ass, and escape 
with it to another quarter of the city, beyond the reach 
of this witty dispenser of justice. 

"It now came to the turn of the injured husband, 
who, eager to bring down vengeance upon his adver- 
sary, was almost incapable, from very rage, of deliver- 
ing himself distinctly. He entered at great length into the 
history of his life, described the patient industry with 
which he had amassed his treasures, spoke touchiugly 
of his marriage, and dilated with pathos and eloquence 
on his desire to have a son. Heaven, at length, he 
■aid, had heard his prayers, and he was within two 
months of being a father, when this accursed baker, 
whose face he hoped might be blackened, burst wil- 
fully and maliciously into his court-yard, and instantly 
blasted all his hopes. 

" The Kadhi now appeared to be greatly perplexed, 
and was buried for a while in the depths of profound 
meditation. He desired the merchant to repeat a por- 
tion of his testimony, inquired concerning his marriage 
and the age of his wife, and then entered into a calcula- 
tion of chances and probabilities. He hod evidently 
much difficulty in coming to a decision, because he 
desired to judge in conformity with the precepts of 
the book, and the principles of the laws of El Islam. 
There was, also, another wish very strong in his mind, 
namely, to amuse and gratify the assembled multitude, 
and send them away with a report of him that should 
reconcile them all to his mode of distributing justice. 

" Under the influence of these feelings, he composed 
bis countenance into an expression of the utmost pos- 
sible gravity, and, addressing himself to the baker, said, 
' Oh, wicked and disastrous wretch, I delivered thee 
from the affair of the goose, and also of the ass, because 
thy accusers seemed to be pursuing thee with malice. 
Bat the case of this good merchant is wholly different; 
thou hast blasted the hopes of his life, thou hast de- 
stroyed his offspring, so that unless the injury be re- 
paired, he must die without an heir, and his vast wealth 
descend to strangers. Considering, therefore, all the cir- 
cumstances of the case, and that, contrary to the 
injunctions of the Prophet, thou art unmarried, I con- 
demn thee to take home his wife, and hereafter, at the 
proper time, deliver her to him in statu quo ? ' 
p " At this the laughter of tho multitude redoubled, 
and the merchant, seeing that part of it was directed 
against him, slunk away from the court, and, retiring 
into his own house, made the best of his misfortune. 
Bat the Kadhi had now established his reputation, 
and his court was ever after frequented, chiefly by the 
people, so that he became wealthy and prosperous, 
and built himself a handsome palace, and married four 
wives, and became the father of many sons and daugh- 
ters. Nor did be forget toe baker who, in some sort, 

had been the author of his good fortune. He took 
him into his house, and bestowed on him a handsome 
female slave, and made him the master of his house- 
hold, and his companion ; and when they sat down on 
the divan together to smoke, they often diverted 
themselves by alluding to the adventure of the wild 
goose, and the ass, and the merchant's wife.- . They 
would then laugh and be merry, and bless God for 
their change of fortune. On such occasions, the 
Kadhi would sometimes put on the ragged cloak — 
which he bad religiously preserved — and, taking ' The 
Thousand and One Nights' under his arm, would 
humbly approach the baker, as he had formerly done 
in his shop, and, in a voice of intreaty, ask him for a 
slice of wild goose. 

"Their wives were often invited to witness this 
exhibition; and they, as well as the baker, always 
protested tliey owed all the happiness and contentment 
of their lives to the hungry Kadhi." 


nooBZM or thb black eagle. 

The feeling with which a landsman passes over the 
sea, very much resembles that of a serpent-charmer 
when playing with a huge boa-constrictor, or cobra 
di eapello. The animal's tricks are very amusing, 
but you can never get rid of tho consciousness that 
the slightest transgression on your part might be in- 
stant death. No beauty, perhaps, exceeds the beauty 
of the sea, when, curled into eudless billows by the 
wind, and painted with purple, gold, or orimson, by 
the rising or setting sun, every wave seems to vi- 
brate to a pulse of joy; and as they leap, and laugh, 
and ripplo about you, in innumerable multitudes, your 
heart leaps too, as the sense of indescribable grandeur 
and sublimity is awakened in your souL 

But when half sick, fatigued, depressed, spiritless, 
you lie down sadly in your berth, when every body 
else, perhaps, has fallen asleep, you regard the sea in 
a very different light. This was now my ease, I felt 
painfully alone, for — 4 

" The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures," 

and all around me were asleep. One small dim lamp, 
swinging from a beam, threw its cheerless light over 
the cabin, while the sea hissed, seethed, and roared 
without, in the most threatening manner. I con- 
trasted my situation with that in which I used to be 
placed at Lausanne, when, on summer nights, we used 
to throw up our windows to let in the balmy air, 
which entered inaudibly; or while attracted to them by 
the spell of the Alps rising in unnutterable beauty be- 
neath the moon. Then, the sweet voices of home wel- 
comed me. Then, my every wish was gratified by a 
sort of domestic providence, which seemed never to 
sleep; and now, here I lay, as little heeded as a bale of 
goods, in an unsavoury berth, with boxes, and baskets, 
sliding this way and that, as the ship reeled before the 
wind. I tried to solace myself by conjuring up visions 
of the distant Nile, and thinking what delight it would 
be hereafter on a winter's night to sit with wife and 
children by the fire, and recount what I had seen. The 
words of the Latin poet came into my mind— 

hue taewaisst jaribitflOgle 


but it would not do. I could not escape from my pre- 
sent discomforts by dreaming of coming pleasures, 
never, perhaps, to come. At length, however, the 
great comforter of humanity, — 

"Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care," 

came to my deliverance. 

The barrascas of the Mediterranean are often of 
short continuance. "While I slept, the wind fell asleep 
also ; so that when I awoke in the morning, wo were 
almost in a dead calm, though the waves, as if angry 
at having been disturbed, still went on rolling sullenly 
towards the South. 

Ali's oriental habits would not suffer him to remain 
in bed long after dawn ; so he got up and awakened 
me, and we both went on deck together to see the sun 
rise. I hope the chill of the autumnal sea will not 
get into my style. I feel it, however, at this moment, 
and the up-and-down motion of the waves still gives 
me qualms. We had drifted during the night con- 
siderably west of Elba; Tuscany yet lay in sight to 
the left, while on the right rose the island of Corsica, 
its peaks and sharp promontories wreathed in mist 
The sun rose directly over Elba, not as a mere fiery 
disc, but like a blood-red column towering sublimely 
into the firmament. By degrees it assumed its natu- 
ral shape, and threw over the tremulous waves a long 
wake of bright gold, which looked like the path of 
angels. All the depression and sadness of the night 
now fled away. The bracing air of the morning was 
about us, and in Ali's face I could already discover the 
skirts, as it were, of the East. The other passengers 
soon joined us, and conversation went on as merrily as 
in the perfumed bowers of Italy. 

Pianosa now came in sight, and we began to look 
out for Sardinia. The wind soon rose again, but con- 
tinued fair; so that we went driving before it, ploughing 
up volumes of foam and spray, which constantly rose 
like a cloud before the ship's bows. Our masts were 
of extraordinary height, which, with a full spread of 
canvas, gives immense speed, but, at the same time, 
renders it necessary to furl sails in weather through 
which an English ship would persevere without taking 
in a single reef. " The Black Eagle" now gave us a 
touch of her quality ; for, as the gale increased, she 
seemed literally to fly over the waves, as, in the hands 
of the pirates, she had often done in the Mgnmn. 

There would be no utility in describing the rough 
weather we encountered, or in enumerating the break- 
fasts, dinners, and suppers, which we devoured in spite 
of it. All I remember is, that on losing sight of Cor- 
sica, we were thrown into a sort of stupor which left 
us little relish of existence for two days, till we arrived, 
late one evening, under the lee of Sicily. The first 
morning of the gale's continuance I went on deck to 
see what the sea looked like under such circum- 

At the risk of appearing grandiloquent, I shall copy 
a passage from my journal, written at the moment : — 
" It was, certainly, the most awful spectacle I have 
ever seen." This is true ; but afterwards, at the mouth 
of the Adriatic I beheld a sea, compared with which 
this was smooth. But to proceed — " As far as the 
eye could reach over the immeasurable ocean, vast 
waves, with white foaming crests, leaped up, like flames 
in a conflagration, and then broke with a crashing, 


hissing sound, perfectly indescribable. These billows 
came, one after another, towards the vessel, seeming 
to threaten it with destruction, and, after lifting it up 
and shaking it like a fallen leaf, rolled on roaring over 
the deep. I often doubted whether the ship could 
possibly weather it out ; but as we came opposite 
Sicily, the land lent us its welcome protection, and, 
thank God, the sea became more calm." 

It continued much calmer all day, and we began to 
hope for better weather. During this day I caught 
my first glimpse of the Sicilian mountains, which, 
from my school days upwards, had appeared half fabu- 
lous to me. From the rate at which we were going, 
we expected to pass Malta during the following night, 
after which our captain (false prophet that he was) 
foretold better weather. In the morning, as we 
drove before the gale, we caught a glimpse of the Is- 
land of Fantellaria, the Botany Bay of the Neapolitan 
Government, lying in the lonely sea towards the South. 
There herds of incorrigible criminals, and gentlemen 
suspected of liberal politics, wear away their lives in 
dreary seclusion from the world, listening to the fierce 
surges, with whose roar are mingled the screams of 
sea-fowl and the fierce whistling of the blast. Every 
one who has a heart must feel for such exiles, cut off 
for ever from their country, often, perhaps, for imagi- 
nary offences. 

During the following day, we rounded the eastern 
extremity of Sicily, and caught, far out at sea, a glimpse 
of Mount Etna ; a mighty, glittering cone of snow, 
towering above a sea of mist, which completely con- 
cealed its base. It appeared to me exactly like Mont 
Blanc, as seen in the early morning from the slopes 
of the Cote d'Or. No language will suffice to paint 
the majesty of nature, especially when to her inherent 
grandeur there are added the associations of poetry and 
history. The influence of the deeds which have been 
performed at the foot of Etna, has risen, as it were, 
from earth, and invested it with a new glory. I could 
not, therefore, as I gazed upon it, disentangle the dif- 
ferent classes of my feelings, and say which took 
their rise from the sources of nature, and which 
from the works of man. Intermingled, they were full 
of delight, for we lend consciousness to monntains, and 
imagine they look down upon us, as we look up to 
them, with a gentle and friendly recognition. Would 
I could transplant the thoughts of that moment 
into the reader's mind ! Men who have seen half 
the world will probably smile at my enthusiasm at the 
first view of Etna. Let them smile on ; I have not 
seen much, an d, thank God, not enough to quench the ad- 
miration of his works within me. To me there was a 
sort of religion in the admiration I experienced. The 
Athenian people had fought and bled upon the land 
stretching southward from its base. I felt a strong 
thrill of pleasure at approaching the theatre of their 
exploits and glory, which I would not have exchanged 
for all the self-complacency of the greatest Epicurean 
philosopher in the world. Brighly blue was the sky 
overhead, and the snows of Etna, dazzling in their white- 
ness, came peacefully shelving down from the firmament 
in delicate undulations, till they were lost in the girdle of 
vapour which concealed the eternal forests separating 
the serial division of the cone from the volcanic gar- 
dens and vineyards of Sicily. 

The Mowing night brought us in tight of Call- 


bria. Niebuhr remarks thai, when sailing up the 
Mediterranean, he thought the stars less bright than 
in our northern latitudes. I was at first of the same 
opinion, because, generally, the sea is enveloped with a 
dense atmosphere, which intercepts the brilliance of 
the stars. In the desert the case is different; and 
even along the shores of Greece, we were occasionally 
indulged with a view of the heavens, which obliterated 
from our memory the recollection of the frosty nights 
of the North. 

" It is with extreme difficulty that one gets accus- 
tomed to a sea life. At first every thing seems be- 
yond measure tiresome, especially during a calm. We 
were now, though luckily without knowing it, passing 
through the lull which, in the Mediterranean, precedes 
a tempest. The ship lay motionless on the glassy 
sea, and we were devoured with ennui and impatience. 
Some smoked, others walked incessantly too and fro, 
others sought to kill time by feeding the chickens. 
This, after smoking, was the Bey's chief employment ; 
he loved to see them eat, which often seemed to give 
him an inclination to eat himself. Kafoor made him- 
self useful on these occasions, for, taking up his station 
in the ship's bows, he used to spear a sort of blue fish, 
called fanfani, which was delicious eating, and came sea- 


sonably to vary our diet, and put me in mind of the blue 
fishes in the Arabian Nights, that, from the frying-pan, 
held converse with their persecutors. In this our fish 
were decidedly inferior. Living or dead, they were 
always mute, though their extreme beauty almost 
made me sorry to eat them. They looked like large 
flakes of lapis lazuli, a little dimmed by the action 
of the waves, and preserved much of their colour 
even after cooking. 

A part of our ship's cargo consisted of fruit, among 
which were exquisite pears and apples. Of these the 
captain permitted us to eat as many as we pleased, and 
we fully availed ourselves of the privilege. When we 
came upon any that were decayed, we used to throw them 
at each other, and I remember one day hitting the Turk- 
ish Bey in the eye with a rotten pear. Another of these 
diminutive bombs burst upon his chin, and ran trick- 
ling down like the precious ointment over the beard of 
Aaron. It is wonderful to what recreations man will 
descend when labouring under the effects of ennui. 
No schoolboy ever displayed tricks more puerile than 
we did, when, in the intervals of smoking, we paced 
the deck in search of amusement. There was a 
startling source of interest at hand; but, being per- 
fectly ignorant of this, we were all as merry as Greeks. 


SiZK not to soothe me, lister dear — 
Leave me awhile to gentle sorrow; 

From pride, or bate, this silent tear 
No taint of bitterness doth borrow. 

There is a charm in kindly pain ; 

The very heart that aches to hear it 
Unas pensive pleasure in the chain, 

And loves, at last, to feel and wear it. 

Love, meek, though faithful, can impart 
A sweet to every kindred feeling ; 

Love-born, the fond, bereaVd one's smart, 
Enfolds the infant germ of healing. 

To sickness and to grief belong 
A magic, blest and soul-refining, 

That charms the heart, and holds it long, 
By silken spells around it twining. 

By pain, or soft regrets ehastis'd, 
The spirit's vision'd sense grows clearer ; 

And, sensual gauds and aims despis'd, 
The spirit-world seems strangely nearer. 

Etherialued, and rapt, we gaze 
From pinnacles of thought, half dizzy. 

On earth; and, through a mystic haze, 
Her stirring crowds seem idly busy. 

If night bring rest, we dreaming sleep — 
From sights celestial waking early ; 

And, through our tears, if then we weep, 
Heaven's fading gates look bright and pearly. 

We seem to live a double life, 
Like one in wakeful slumber walking ; 

Vacant we join earth's daily strife, 
The heart, meanwhile, with angels talking. 

Above, the stream that all behold, 

Acts, words, a restless mingled torrent; 

Below, o'er sands of priceless gold, 
Flows Meditation's under-current. 

0, blessed school of kindly grief! 

0, blessed couch where pain doth languish! 
There Hope grows stronger, and Belief, 

And Faith, and Love, in spite of anguish. 

Health-life, Joy-life, are full of haste ; 

We fail, 'mid changing occupation, 
To mark the soul's best powers waste, 

Unfed by solemn contemplation. 

Then do not soothe me, sister < 
Here let me muse in kindly sorrow ; 

Hush ! seraph voices whisper near — 
Come to me, sister, on the morrow. 

London, 10th December, 1849. 

Gold Psx. 

Digitized by 




No. IV. 


Tra south-western division of the county Armagh, 
known from an old Irish charter as the lordship of 
Newry, on land bestowed on the Abbey of Tewtrees, 
presents scenery of a bold and mountainous character, 
but by no means as bleak or uncultivated as the hilly 
districts on the coasts of Ulster. The prosperous 
borough of Newry has grown around the site of that 
ancient abbey, and smaller towns have risen throughout 
the lordship. The uplands of its wildest portions 
afford pasture to hardy sheep and cattle; the sound of 
rustling corn is heard in harvest time, and the smoke 
of hamlets rises from every delL 

This description applies particularly to the district 
of Carnlougli, so called from a small lake, lying low in 
a pastoral valley, between two lofty peaks, still bearing 
the Celtic appellations of Sleine Girkin, and Slcine 
Gullion ; and sending to the lower lands a narrow and 
rapid rivulet, said to torn more mills in its course than 
any stream in Ulster. 

On the shore of that lake, and at the very foot of 
the great Sleine Gullion, lay two solitary farms, di- 
vided, it was believed, for more than a hundred years, 
by a small stream, or burn, as the peasants called it, 
and named, from the respective, owners the lands of 
O'Lafferty and M'Larcn. 

At the time of our tale, about 1812, there was a 
tradition in the parish that these farms had been oc- 
cupied by the same families from the days of Crom- 
well ; and the O'Laffertys and M'Larens had been 
always good neighbours, though each, as their very 
names imported, belonged to one of the two great 
divisions of the Ulster population — the M'Larens 
being Presbyterian, and of Scottish origin, while the 
O'Laffertys traced their descent from a Milesian prince, 
and clung to the faith of Home. A passing stranger, 
if at all gifted with the powers of observation, would 
have remarked a yet more obvious difference in the 
tenements and daily habits of each family. O'Lafferty 's 
land was much the largest share, stretching up the 
mountain side for many an acre, one waste of unfenced 
pasture, whose boundaries were such as Nature's self 
set up — a mossy rock, a clump of bilberry bushes, 
and that tiny stream. On the lower ground, sundry 
large fields of oats and potatoes, with straggling ditches 
between, and corners left to rank weeds and grass, 
surrounded a group of cabins, built in close proximity 
r mnd a half-enclosed yard, the chief of which, rising 
almost to the dignity of a thatched cottage, and having 
an ill-kept garden in front, was the family residence. 
It accommodated the parent pair, Peter and Mary, to- 
gether with six sons and four daughters, the youngest 
of whom was almost grown ; and their neighbours re- 
marked that the O'Laffertys would have been just 
thirteen, the unlucky number, but there was a brother 
never reckoned among the household, as he had been 
educated for the church, and was then the priest of a 
parish on the shores of Lough Neagh. The family 
were regarded as rich and respectable, at least by their 
Catholic neighbours. Peter held his form in fee-sim- 

ple, at a trifling quit-rent ; and bis numerous house- 
hold lived and laboured upon it in the fashion of their 
people. They worked hard in harvest and seed titne>, 
except when a fair or a holiday intervened, and cele- 
brated every rustic festival from Shrovetide to Christ- 
mas, with good cheer and hospitality, which were some- 
times limited by their funds, but never by their prudence. 
The O'Laffertys were all deservedly popular. Peter 
would have lent anything ; Mary refused no applicant 
for charity; and the yonng people were equally ready 
to assist at a neighbour's wake or harvest. These 
good-natured ways were not calculated to increase the 
family finances. 

The large unrented farm, indeed, kept a rough plenty 
in their home, and furnished, with the help of the 
priest, the means of purchasing occasional finery for 
the boys and girls ; but nothing was ever saved, nor 
any improvement in house or field attempted — Peter 
saying, " he had no notion of skinnin' flints for money, 
to sink it in a mountain." 

Mathew M'Laren did not hold half the number 
of acres, with a soil of far inferior quality. The farm 
had descended to him through a succession of leases, 
the last of which was near its expiration ; and the rent 
had been regularly raised on every renewal, till it ar- 
rived at thirty shillings on acre, which Mathew had 
paid for almost twenty years. All that time he and 
his wife had laboured hard and lived sparingly, count- 
ing their pence and minutes, that none of them might 
be lightly spent. They had married when both were 
ruddy and strong in years and youth ; but Mrs. M'Laren 
had no dowry, and Mathew came into possession of 
the farm encumbered with the portions of his two sis- 
ters. They were paid long ago, and the pair owed nobody 
anything ; but the hair of both had grown gray, and 
their faces hard and old with work and weather. One 
improvement after another had been effected, year by 
year, on the farm. Rocks were removed, and marshy 
spots reclaimed, till there were not better fenced nor 
more completely cultivated fields in the county. At 
their extremity stood the cottage, looking always as 
spruce as if newly thatched, and warmly sheltered by 
a thick orchard in the rear. Mathew had enlarged it 
by the addition of a parlour, whose stuccoed walls and 
polished oak floor received the family only when their 
minister paid his pastoral visits, or on equally grand 
occasions; by the wuy, christenings were also celebrated 
there, and these in Mathew's house were many, lie 
had now nino children, the eldest of whom was a hand- 
some, though hardworking, girl of nineteen. She was 
succeeded by five spare, active boys, descending, in regu- 
lar gradation of growth, till the rear was brought up by 
three very little girls, the last of them yet but a lisping 

They had all learned early lessons of industry. " By 
the sweat of thy brow shalt thou cat thy bread, ' ' was the 
practical truth of their existence ; but the M'Larens 
were well known at both church and school, and the 
jnve tiles were ftmous among their compatriots for well 



keptSundaj clothes, and an unrivalled fluency in the As- 
sembly's Catechism. A long interchange of good 
offices, and the fact that their fathers had lived on 
similar terms during at least four generations, made 
them and the O'Lafferty's agree to differ in their faith 
and fashions of living, for in all other respects they 
were the best of friends. Should the two hogs which 
Peter always kept, insisting that, "one wis nane," 
chance to be found rooting in Mathcw's garden, he 
quietly drove them home, without so much as men- 
tioning the parish pound ; aud an affirmative response 
to the shout of '* Do yez want hilp ? " would bring the 
O'Lafferty's over in a body, on the busiest harvest day, 
to assist in putting Mathew's crop out of danger. 

Social intercourse also cemented their friendship ; 
sometimes, when there was no particular work on 
hands, the M'Larcns availed themselves of Mrs. 
O'Lafferty's kind invitation to share in the festivities 
of Patrick's Day ; and though they made a point of 
keeping silence on-that subject before their Catholic 
acquaintances, the O'Laffertys liked to drop in to 
hear Mathew read from the family Bible ou winter 
Snnday evenings, or one of his sons, in a volume of 
Burns,* on week nights — these works, together with 
the "Westminster Confession, constituting the honest 
farmer's entire library ; but reading was an art under- 
stood only by the priest in the family of his neighbour. 

The twenty-first year of what Mathew M'Laren, 
in the Scots dialect of his people, called, " his battle 
wi' the "warl'," had commeuccd, with a few days of 
clear bat keen frost, which admitted of no field la- 
bour ; but sundry implements of household industry, 
particularly the spinning-wheel and hand-loom, were 
regularly kept in reserve, by way of scope for winter 
exertion in the manufacture of linen, from the flax 
produced in their own fields. A large and newly re- 
plenished fire of peat was kiudling on the kitchen 
hearth, and smoking most abundantly the hams and 
flitches suspended in the covert of the wide-projecting 
chimney, while the winter sun beamed through the 
clean window, and brightened to very gold the pewter 
on the opposite shelves. On oue si-.!e sat Mrs. 
M'Laren, still a comely matron, though somewhat weak 
and careworn, and her frank, cheerful-looking daughter, 
in their dark-blue linen gowns, spinning hard for the 
hank at nightfall. By them sat the younger girls, 
busily winding yarn for the loom, in full play at the 
other side, under the vigorous arm of Mathew, who 
had that morning expressed his thankfulness to Pro- 
vidence, " for sending the winter, that a poor man 
might rest hunsel' wearyin,' afore the seed time." 

In front of the fire the boys were all at work, the 
two eldest mending farming implements, the rest 
making baskets, when that useful household were sur- 
prised by a lond, peremptory knocking at the outer 
door. " Come in," said Mrs. M'Laren, fo rthe en- 
trance was always free ; but she rose from her wheel 
on perceiving that the visitor so unceremoniously 
welcomed was no other than their landlord, Mr. Fitz- 

In any other country, Mr. Fitzsimmonds would 
have been considered a respectable farmer, being the 
proprietor of a comfortable house and some three 
hundred acres ; but in Ireland, and in h» own imagi- 
nation, he was a country gentleman, if not a perfect 
aristocrat. Mr. Fitzsimmonds kept a carriage, with 

his arms on the panel, in which his lady paid visits 
with horses detached from the plough or cart for that 
purpose. The coachman who drove it had charge of 
multifarious duties, which ranged from planting pota- 
toes to cutting turnips for the cattle, aud it was chron- 
icled that he performed the latter task in livery. 

The governess, besides instructing sis children 
in music and the modern languages, was expected 
to help on churning days, repair all dilapidated 
garments, and smooth for the entire family. The 
Fitzsimmonds' household wore all manner of tar- 
nished and makeshift finery, and gave balls once 
a-year to the gentry of the county; but the village 
shopkeepers complained loudly of protracted credit, 
aud the many small farms leased out of that three 
hundred acres were the highest rented in the parish. 

Mr. Fitzsimmonds was a stout, red-faced gentleman, 
with half-grizzled hair, and a boisterous, would-be- 
good-natured manner, which those who knew little of 
him mistook for rustio frankness. He laughed loud 
and often, spoke familiarly to everybody, and was 
always joking ; habits which were sufficient to make 
him popular with the peasantry, in spite of a keen, 
cunning look, and sundry tales of over-reaching which 
hung about his history. 

" All at work!" said he, swaggering into the kit- 
chen. " Gad, there's no man in Armagh can keep 
the yonng folks busy like you, Mat. Ion rogues of 
mine won't do a turn. 

" They dinna need, sir," said the laborious but in- 
telligent man, stopping the shuttle to converse with his 
affable landlord, who took possession of the seat prof- 
fered by Mrs. M'Laren, with a gay remark on her 
good looks, from which be passed to those of her 
daughter, Annie, inquiring if she spun so hard for the 
wedding gown ; and told the elder boys that it made 
him proud to see them ploughing when he last rode 
by. The largest portion of his conversation was ad- 
dressed to Mathew, of whom he demanded what crop 
he proposed for every field that year. 

"It's hard to t^U, sir," said M'Laren, "There's 
gae little of my lease to come ; some say the war 
canna last, and then the mercats maun come doon." 

'* Old wives' talk,- my dear fellow," said his land- 
lord confidentially. "Have'nt you heard .the news f 
Buonaparte is going to invade Russia with four hun- 
dred thousand men. I'll stake my life the war will 
last these twenty years to come; and the price of 
grain and flax roust rise every year. As for your 
lease, you and I won't part for a trifle, Mat, tako ray 
word for it ; though there are men that think this a 
snug spot. But we'll talk of that again," said he, 
looking cautiously round on the children ; and then 
added, in an under tone, " I have thought of some- 
thing for you, Mat. Will you be at Newry fair to- 
morrow ?" 

" It's my intention, sir, wi' the help o* Providence," 
said the surprised but gratified farmer, " I hae a coo 
to sell." 

" Very well, we'll meet," responded Fitzsimmonds ; 
and, with some additional observations on the fineness 
of Mathew's web, and the probability of an increase 
in the price of linen, the landlord took his leave. 
The ingenuity of all the M'Larens was that day 
vainly exercised to conjecture what good thing was in 
store' for them ; and on the following morning Mathew, 



arrayed in his Sunday coat, for the first time in his 
life on a profane occasion, with his eldest son Tom 
by his side, and his cow before him, set oat for the 
fair. Mrs. M'Laren and Annie remained at home ; 
they had no yam to sell, and it was not a family cus- 
tom to go to market without business ; but the dame 
oast an admiring look on her husband and son as she 
warned them that " the days were gae short," and 
then hurried in to her wheel. 

Early in the afternoon Tom returned with great in- 
telligence; the cow had been advantageously sold, and 
scarcely had Mathew concluded the bargain, when his 
landlord stepped up, and, taking his arm in the most 
familiar fashion, insisted on an immediate adjournment 
to Jamie Baxter's, as an inn resorted to by all the far- 
mers for miles round Newry was termed, to have a glass, 
and chat over some business. Mathew, accordingly, 
entrusted the price of the cow to Tom's care, and 
sent him home to his mother, with a promise not to be 
late himself. However, the winter day had closed, 
and that industrious household were assembled at 
their evening tasks about the hearth before the good- 
man's return. His visit to Jamie Baxter's might have 
been presumed, even independent of Tom's informa- 
tion ; but it was not alone the effect of Jamie's strong 
waters that made his air so important, and his words 
so significantly few. Mathew had evidently some 
mighty secret on his mind, but a species of incom- 
municative pride had also taken possession of him, 
and he cut short Mrs. M'Laren 's anxious inquiries 
regarding the day's affair with, "Hoot, gudewife, the 
tale's ower new to be clavered to women an' bairns." 

It .is proverbially known that sober minds, if once 
they lose their equipoise, aro apt to veer farthest to 
the side of folly ; and the discreet soul of Mathew, 
kept so as it had been, by years of toil and saving, 
was for the moment thrown off its equilibrium by the 
flattering attentions of his landlord ; for not only had 
that gentleman taken signal notice of him in the fair, 
in presence of sundry market acquaintances, but in- 
vited him to dine at the said Jamie's, in company with 
himself and his attorney ; praised his family iu parti- 
cular for the virtue of subordination, became diffuse 
in predictions of their future prosperity, and then 
opened his business, the substance of which was, 
that as several large offers had been made him for 
Mathew 's farm, he had prepared a new lease for 
M'Laren, which, thougli somewhat higher rented 
than the last had been, wonld secure him against the 
coveters of his tenement, and turn out a most profit- 
able speculation in the times of high produce and 
dear land, which were certainly coming. 

The praise and professions of Mr. Fitzsimmonds 
would have been of small account to minds more con- 
versant with such matters ; but on the simple farmer 
they wrought like new wine, and, under their influerlce, 
not to speak of the strong punch which wound up 
that dinner, Mathew M'Laren not only accepted 
a lease, extravagantly rented even for those times, but 
agreed to pay his landlord, by way of renewal fine, a 
sum which absorbed his entire savings. 

When the fumes of the flattery and punch were in 
some degree dissipated on the following morning, 
Mathew himself could not help sharing in the loudly- 
• (pressed consternation of Mrs. M'Laren at his 
bargain; but the man had done the business. His 

brave, honest spirit had an alloy of pride, and, Eke 
most of creation's lords, he was by no means inclined 
to acknowledge his own folly to the individual best 
acquainted with it, namely, his wife. Mathew, there- 
fore, grew violent on the value of the lease, expressed 
his contempt for female understandings generally, in 
no measured terms ; and Mrs. M'Laren retired from 
the argument, conquered but not convinced, with, 
" Weel, gudeman, I wish we may a' fin' it as guid a 
thing as ye think, this time seven years." 

The war which followed the first French Revolution 
had, particularly in its latter years, the effect of rais- 
ing to an unprecedented height the prices of produce, 
and, consequently, that of land, in Ireland. Never 
had the agricultural interest been so prosperous as at 
the period of our tale ; money flowed into the pockets 
of the farmer, and thence into those of his landlord, 
with a celerity quite enlivening ; but keen-sighted men, 
began to perceive that the war could not last long, 
and peace must bring a change of prices. From that 
conviction, the landed proprietors were profuse in 
deeds and long leases, in order to secure their own, 
rentals, while surer speculators sold their estates at 
prices ruinous to both the purchasers and their un- 
lucky tenantry in the succeeding years. 

Mathew M'Laren was one of the greatest suffer- 
ers by this disgraceful policy. While the war-prices 
continued, the tireless industry and unrelaxing prudence 
of his family hardly enabled him to pay that heavy 
rent; but times were changing, one rumour after another 
came from the far-fighting countries, and at last news 
of a great victory was heard in the villages of Ulster. 
Peasant-politicians assembled in forge and public- 
house to hear the papers read, and children made bon- 
fires in consequence ; while Mathew, who troubled him- 
self little about politics, saying " they were jist the 
work o' Providence by wicked instruments," as, per- 
haps, with more justice than charity, he denominated 
statesmen and generals, gave thanks on hearing that 
the prayer which his pious minister had offered up for 
more than twenty-five years was at length granted, and 
peace proclaimed throughout Europe ; but corn went 
down with Buonaparte, while the high rents remained, 
and Mathew's lease hung about him like a millstone. 
Do what he would, M'Laren could not pay. The fall 
of markets continuing year after year, affected all 
classes of farmers, till it resulted in the general dis- 
tress of 1819. Doubtless, there were many cases in 
Ulster similar to Mathew's, and it is needless to dwell 
upon the wearying steps by which his misfortunes 
reached their crisis — the pinching economy, the la- 
borious days, and the rest abridged to his household; 
his own vain efforts and bitter disappointments ; the 
hopeless consultations with poor Mrs. M'Laren, and 
the disputes which sometimes came between them — 
sad fruits of perplexity and overtried tempers — 
but they did not last, for both were true hearted. 
Their old friends, the O'LaffertyS, at length learned 
their embarrassment, and that was a sore trial to 
Mathew. * Peter never had money, but he sold his last 
cow but one to assist the M'Larens when hard 
pressed for a gale, and the family were doubly ready 
to help in seed time and harvest. Far the readiest 
was Brian, the eldest son, and, as his mother 
called him, the gentleman of the O'Laffertys, from a 
sort of natural polish in his manners and aspirations 



■ above his class, which were, fortunately, accompanied 
by the more rare qualifications of a high, generous 
spirit, and keen feelings on the subject of right and 
justice. Brian and the priest were twins; and, in spite 
of the difference of education and rank, a peculiarly 
olose attachment and confidence continued to subsist 
between them. As usual in such cases, they strongly 
resembled each other, and were somewhat different 
from their' fair-faced family, both being tall, dark, and 
slender, with the fine, though melancholy Milesian 
countenance of their country's old princes, and with 
this difference, that Brian's temper was far the fiercest 
and most determined. There was no less similarity 
in their respective characters. Any circumstance would 
have been welcome to Brian which furnished an 
apology for transferring himself to Mathew's side of 
the burn, and his sisters long ago began to whisper 
among themselves that the attraction was Annie 

Strange to say, this discovery was not quite displeas- 
ing to the O'Laffertys. The wide difference in their 
faith seemed to form no barrier of separation between 
them and the M'Larens, their long intimacy with 
whom had naturally weakened their prejudices regard- 
ing the exclusive claims of their own church ; and, by 
the way, it is currently believed in Ulster that this is 
no uncommon effect of having a near relative in the 
priesthood. Besides, the Catholics of Armagh were 
accustomed to regard their Presbyterian neighbours 
as somewhat superior on account of their better educa- 
tion. " Shure Annie won't be stiff," was the parental 
comfort ; and Brian was allowed to cross the burn on 
all occasions without a remark, except from his merry 
sisters. There was another cause for Brian's peace 
on the subject. The priest had quietly advised his pa- 
rents not to meddle with the boy, assuring Peter and 
Mary that, if it was the Lord's will, it must happen ; 
an observation which appeared so conclusive to the 
simple pair, that it wound up all their after consulta- 
tions. Father Dermot, though a popular and much- 
respected priest, was himself remarked by the seniors 
of his flock as being less hostile to Protestant practices 
than any of his predecessors; he permitted Catholic 
servants to attend family worship in Presbyterian 
houses, was by no means partial to penance, and spoke 
little in favour of the mass. It was said his bishop 
bad received intelligence of the fact ; but as Father 
Dermot was at once a more learned and temperate man 
than that worthy prelate, he was in no haste to take 
public notice of it, and the former lived on quietly in 
his distant parish, visiting the O'Laffertys regularly 
at the close of every harvest. 

Mathew and his helpmate had a guess how things 
were going; but while his father was their old neigh- 
bour, Brian was their family friend ; his helping hand 
was ever at their service when it was most required, 
and he was wont to talk confidentially with the 
M'Larens, not only on worldly matters, bnt those in dis- 
pute between their respective churches. From these 
conversations it was manifest that his convictions were 
in favour of his neighbour's faith rather than that of 
his people, which, together with the yoqpg man's 
sound sense and worth, softened, in their eyes, all that 
was objectionable in his Irish name and lineage. Brian 
and Annie, had long understood each other ; there was 
neither promise nor profession between them, but both 
vw. xvii.— at. fxaW 

knew they were well beloved in a hard working world, 
and never intruded on their seniors what may be called 
the fuss of courtship. The useful, sensible girl had 
neither time nor attraction for rustic beaus, and was, 
therefore, spared the cloud of small vanities that flutter 
about village as well as ball-room belles; and Brian 
having no rivals to mortify or astonish, got up no quar- 
rels and assumed no airs. Meantime, Mathew's af- 
fairs grew worse and worse; he had fallen into arrears 
of the last two gales, and a third was approaching, of 
which his utmost efforts could muster only a part. At 
last the unfortunate man found that to retain his farm 
on the terms was an impossibility ; and the result of 
sleepless nights' consultation was, that he and Mrs. 
M'Laren agreed to dispose of their lease to the best 
advantage, and emigrate with their family to America. 
There was a time when the prospect of such a step 
would have seemed terrible to them, but long pressure 
reconciles us to any alternative. Annie and the boys 
took to the plan at once ; they were young, and wearied 
with working to no purpose ; and the O'Laffertys, after 
a loud lamentation over the loss of their kindly neigh- 
bours, "an' the brave place they wnr lavin in ould 
Irelan' where thir people had lived and died since CmnY* 
mele's time ; bad cess till him," one and all agreed it 
was the wisest thing they could do, and set about sav- 
ing potatoes and butter for their journey. 

" Lit me go to Amirasay, too, father and mother, 
dear," said Brian, as soon as the clamour subsided ; 
" there's plinty besides me for the farm, chape as it is, 
an' yez know what always took me across the burn; 
that 'ill take me across the say too. Mathew has no 
son that can help him much, an' I bV a notion we 
wouldn't differ on other things beyant." 

As might be expected, a still louder remonstrance 
followed the request ; but Brian was firm, and his rea- 
soning strong. Peter and Mary wavered before it for 
a few days, when the priest arrived on his annual visit. 
The brothers walked together long beside the lake that 
evening, and then Father Dermot, though with a sad 
and hopeless look, earnestly advised the O'Laffertys 
to let Brian go. The priest's opinion was always de- 
cisive, and now there were weighty arguments in its 
favour ; the change of matters in the farming world 
was severely felt, even by the O'Laffertys. They had 
a large family to provide for. North America was 
known to be a remunerative field for young men 
of Brian's class, and he would be no stranger there 
with the M'Larens. Brian and Annie had first dis- 
cussed the project between themselves; it was their only 
chance for union, and the friendship subsisting between 
him and the old people secured their consent ; so it was 
finally arranged that Brian should accompany the 
M'Larens to America, and, as soon as circumstances 
permitted, become their son-in-law. 

Thus far, all was amicably settled, but unexpected 
difficulties arose in the proposed sale ; land had fallen 
considerably in popular estimation since the war, and, 
after repeated advertisements, no bidder could be found 
for M'Laren's lease. " Its too dear at the rent," was 
the general observation; and poor Mathew learned, 
to his consternation, that neither rich nor poor would 
take his bargain off his hands. In this dilemma his 
friends advised him to try if his landlord would become 
the purchaser, naturally supposing that M'Laren's 
heavy losses and known honesty would weigh with the 



conscience of that gentleman regarding ■ bargain by 
whioh he alone bad profited. Mr. Fitzsimmonds had 
oontrived to hare moat of his property leased on similar 
terms, in consequence of which his family made a larger 
display of finery, and gave more frequent entertain- 
ments. Their prospective wealth was also latterly in- 
creased by expectations from a younger brother of Mr. 
Fitzsimmonds', said to have realised a considerable for- 
tune in the West Indies. Old neighbours knew that, 
in his youth, this man had led the life of a country 
lake, and when his debts and vices no longer admitted 
of remaining in Ireland, he had sailed for Jamaica, 
where negro slavery then prevailed with all its unques- 
tioned abuses, and became a planter's overseer. There 
the demon of avarioe took possession of the spendthrift, 
and for twenty years he gathered money through all 
the dirty and iniquitous ways that lay about his busi- 
ness ; but dim reports at last reached Camlough of in- 
temperance and its terrible effects, which had fallen on 
his latter days in that tropical climate ; and nobody was 
surprised when FiUimmonds announced that his brother 
was coming home to recruit his health and settle with 
him in Ireland. 

Sundry preparations were made for the rich man's 
arrival ; and the family were wondering he did'nt oome, 
when a letter, reached them from the oaptain of the 
ship in which he sailed from Jamaica. Fitzsimmonds 
said it gave an account of hie sudden death at sea, and 
he was not sure about the legacy. It was remarked 
that their mourning was rather shabby ; bat a seaman 
of the same vessel who came to visit his friends in 
Newry solved the mystery by telling that, one dark 
night, Fitzsimmonds' brother had rushed on deck in a 
fit of the horrors, with a leathern bag, supposed to eon- 
tain his entire fortune, which he had drawn in gold from 
the Kingston Bank, slung round his neck, and, jumping 
overboard before he could be prevented, the weight of 
his twenty years' gathering took him to the bottom. 

It was another clear, frosty morning when Mathew, 
with the same respectable look, though sadly worn and 
dispirited since the signing of that luckless lease, and 
accompanied by his grey-haired pastor, waited on Mr. 
Fitzsimmonds. They were shown into a disorderly 
back room, whioh that gentleman dignified with the 
title of his office, and Fitzsimmonds entered with his 
wonted noise, and more than his wonted consequence; 
but both were strangely damped by the calm seriousness 
of the old Presbyterian minister, who, having a casual 
acquaintance of the landlord, at once proceeded to de- 
clare their mission — setting forth Mathew" s utter in- 
ability to retain the farm, his proposed plan of emi- 
gration, and his present difficulties, concluding with a 
hope that Mr. Fitsimmonds would himself become the 
purchaser of his undisposable lease. Mr. Fitzsimmonds 
felt there were other leases which he might be called 
upon to purchase if such a precedent were given, and, 
therefore, answered, confusedly — " I really don't want 
the farm. Its very odd somebody won't buy it, for 
It's a snug place, and you musn't leave it, Mat Ame- 
rica is a wild country, you know, full of agues, and 
mosquittoes, and Bed Indians! " 

"I wud ne'er gang if I could help it, sir," said 
Mathew, meekly. '* Bit I hae done me best, and can't 
live— the lease is ower dear." 

" Yon should have thought of that in time, my good 
fellow," said his landlord, kindling up, for the minister's 

eye was upon him; "but as for buying it, I have no 
money to spare at present, but a deal of business so 
I wish you a very good morning ;" and the next sound 
they heard was that of Mr. Fitzsimmonds' horse in full 
gallop for Newry. 

That evening, Brian and Dermot walked again be- 
side the lake; the former had been at Mathew's oottage, 
and learned the .failure of the morning's expedition, 
which almost threw the family into despair, as their 
last hopes were built upon it, and Brian himself was 
wild with wrath and disappointment. 

" Brother, I know not what to advise," said Dermot, 
after a pause, " but there is a queer story running in 
my memory. When I came first to my parish, a poor 
widow oame to me with a sad complaint of a graoelass 
Protestant farmer to whom she had lent the price of 
her cow more than a year before; and, having neither 
witness nor acknowledgment, he denied the debt One 
sultry afternoon, in the previous summer, a man, calling 
himself a tired traveller, asked leave to rest in her 
cabin. While he sat, they entered into conversation, 
and as it was si ways uppermost in the poor woman's 
mind, she told him the story of the loan. ' Well,' 
said the man, ' there is one method in this world to 
get your debt paid, and it will never fail where there 
is wrong or injustice in the case. Get a priest any 
time between midnight and morning, and mind the 
nearer midnight the better, to say a mass backwards, 
keeping the name of God out of it and you'll have 
your money within twenty-four hours after; but let 
me warn you never to get that job done except when 
no other means will serve ; ' and almost immediately 
the traveller took his departure, saying he had far to 
go ; and she never saw him again. I thought it a 
strange superstition, but somehow I couldn't help 
wondering if there were any truth in it; and one night 
having sat up late reading, I was tempted to put it in 
practice ; but Brian, all I know is, that next day die 
widow oame to me, rejoicing that the farmer had oome 
and paid her ; and he has been a quiet man, and a re- 
gular church-goer ever sinoe." 

The O'Laffertys wondered that night why Brian 
and Dermot sat so late; but they had always some- 
thing of their own to speak of, and the family went 
to sleep, and left them by the fire. The M'Lerens, 
too, sat much later than usual ; household casualties 
occupied their time ; but all was over at last, and the 
juniors had retired, when Mathew, saying he couldn't 
sleep, and it was long till day, seated himself by the 
hearth. " We'll sit wi' ye, father, dear," said Annie, 
taking her place at his one aide, as Mrs. M'Laren 
came kindly to the other. 

It is a sad power in human cares which banishes 
sleep even from the couch of labour. Long the three 
talked over their state and prospects, till Annie in- 
quired if they heard anything; and the next moment 
a hand outside lifted the latch. The door, whioh 
Mathew thought he had barred some hours before, 
slowly opened, and a dark, strange-looking man, carry- 
ing a heavy bag, in whioh they heard ooins chink, 
walked in, and gruffly demanded of Mathew if he had 
a lease to sell. 

"Indeed I hae, air," said Mathew; "but it's late." 

" It'a never lata with us," interrupted the stranger. 
"I have travelled far to buy your lease. What's the 



" Throe tanner* wad ne'er pay me, air, improvement* 
and all considered," said Mathew; "but wont yon sit 

" No," said the stranger, opening his bag; and Annie 
remarked that it seemed lull of guineas. One by one 
they chinked on the white deal table, as the stranger 
counted them but like a man accustomed to the work. 
" There's three hundred," said he at last; " make haste 
and girt me the lease." 

" Are there nae papers to sign, sir t " said Mathew, 
producing the lease from among his family valuables, 
laid up in a large chest. " Hadn 't you better speak to 
Mr. Fitasimmonds?" 

"I'll settle with him myself," said the stranger, 
snatching it from his hand. The goodman afterwards 
said, he had never felt so unwilling to take money; 
but before he could remonstrate, the stranger stalked 
out, leaving Annie and Mrs. M'Laren amazed at the 
sight of so much gold. They were three hundred real 
guineas, for Mathew counted them carefully over ; but 
it was a strange hour and a quick sale, and the three 
wished for morning. When it came, their first move, 
ment was to acquaint the O'Laffertys with the fact, 
and much were they amazed, especially Brian and the 
priest ; but when they had wondered sufficiently over 
the particulars, it was agreed, by advice of Father Der- 
mot, that these being somewhat inexplicable, should be 
kept among themselves ; and the information of Cam- 
lough was confined to the fact that Mathew M'Laren 
had sold his lease to a strange gentleman, and got a 
stocking full of guineas for it. 

In the succeeding months both families were busy 
with preparations for the voyage; the M'Laren* 
seemed in wondrous haste to leave their old home, 
though Mathew declared he never saw or heard aught 
of the purchaser ; Brian, too, seemed anxious to be gone, 
but there was a wild burst of sorrow at the parting. 

"Be kind to my boy, Mat. M'Laren," said Peter, 
"for the brave years that our people wur neighbours 
ontbeould sod;" "and, Brian avourneen, don't for- 
git us," said Mary, "whin you and yer own's livin' 
well and happy, an* no landlords widin miles ov ye." 

So, with many prayers and promises of letters, they 
sailed from the port of Newry, by one of the earliest 
ships of the new year. 

Fitzsimmonds had judiciouslykept aloof, hoping, from 
the unexplained nature of the sale, that it might con- 
tain some legal loophole for his interest ; but months 
rolled away; cheering letters came from the emigrants, 
which told of a pleasant voyage and a new home, 
found among the corn lands of Tennessee, where the 
M'Larens' industry had a promise of comparative wealth, 
and Brian and Annie saw no fears for their future. 
Still no purchaser made bis appearance to claim Ma- 
thew 's farm ; the fields lay waste, and the home silent. 
Another term was coming on, and the landlord began 
to think it was too bad that he could get rent from no- 
body, on which account, either believing the story of 
the sole to be false, or wishing to prove if it were so, 
he advertised the place to be let, and busied himself in 
looking out for tenants. They were hard to find, for 
strange reports began to be whispered about the soli- 
tary house. Neighbours had seen it biasing with light 
long after nightfall, and heard wild sounds, as if from 
revellers within. Fitzsimmonds said that these tales 
were got up by some interested parties, to frighten 

him out of his teat; and, by way of refutation, he de« 
termined to temporarily install his bailiff, known at 
" Driving Jamie," in Matthew's old oottage. 

Driving Jamie, as his sobriquet imported, was by 
no means a popular character in Camlongh. The pea* 
santry accused him of some of.the worst abuses of hit 
calling; but before its adoption, in his earlier days, he 
had attempted by turns sundry less obnoxious trades, 
none of which he had ever the perseverance to laarn, 
and now added to his general usefulness as a bailiff, 
a smattering of the mason's, carpenter's, and thatcher'a 
work. True it was that Jamie's performance be- 
longed to a primitive stage of these arts, but Mr. 
Fitzsimmonds had aliking for jobs that cost him nothing, 
and, as the weather and desolation had told on 
M'Laren 's oottage, he employed his bailiff to make 
the necessary repairs, under his own watchful eye. 

Jamie's family consisted of a wife and two grown-up 
daughters, who were believed to fear nothing, being 
themselves the terror of at least all their feminine 
neighbours. He and they had exulted over the grand 
house they were to have, and intimated their collec- 
tive resolution "not to be thnmed out asy," which 
was of course never imparted to Mr. Fitzsimmonds dur- 
ing the three days which he and his bailiff had passed, 
almost together, on the premises, as Jamie did not 
relish working there alone, and Fitzsimmonds could not 
trust the repairs to his wisdom. These were nearly 
completed at the close of the third day : but the wea- 
ther, which had been mild and dull, as frequently occurs 
at the commencement of the Irish winter, suddenly 
changed to a perfect deluge of sleet and rain. 

« They'll be drounded goin' home this night," said 
Peter O'Lafferty, as he looked from his own door to- 
wards his old neighbour's dwelling, through the thiok- 
ening darkness. 

"Maybe they'll stay till it's over," said the priest, 
who had that day arrived with an American letter in 
his pocket. 

" I wish thim good ov thir ahUter," muttered Peter, 
firmly barring the door; and the old man made no 
further remark, but took his seat with his household 
circle round their blazing hearth. 

The day's work was over with that easy family, and 
long they discussed the news from America, till all 
were startled by a weight falling against the door, with 
such force that the frail bolt gave way, and a man 
bounded in, who never stayed his progress till he was 
firmly ensconced behind Mrs. O'Lafferty, in the chim- 
ney corner. The firelight showed the terrified family 
that it was none other than Driving Jamie, but his eyes 
seemed starting from their sockets, and his teeth were 
chattering like a pair of castanets. A few minutes in 
the warm cottage and a glass of spirits, promptly ad- 
ministered by Peter, restored the bailiff sufficiently to 
explain the cause of his terror, and the story could 
never again be extracted from him so fully. "We 
had finished the work, and wur makin' ourselves com- 
fortable in the kitchen," said Jamie, "whin we heird 
a quare noise in the parlour. ' That's somebody try- 
ing to frighten you and me, Jamie,' says the masther; 
but the words wirn't said, till out cum a black schrech- 
in' company on us, an' the ringlader ov thim (as I'm 
a sinner, it wis Masther George from Jamaickay) run 
at the masther wid a roar about buyin' M'Laren's 
lease, that wud frighten the soul out of ye. Neither of us 



could, stan' that, an' I saw thim chasm' Mm the strait 
road home." 

No one ever thought of doubting Jamie's word, ex- 
cept in a court of justice, where it was generally be- 
lieved he would swear anything ; but though he shook 
off the effects of that fright, and returned to his old 
habits, if possible more recklessly than ever, nothing 
could ever induce him to approach the cottage, which 
from that night became uninhabitable, for early in the 
morning tho O'Laffertys discovered that its roof, which 
seemed so substantial, had fallen in, and nobody cared 
to rebuild it. 

. Fitzsimmonds' servants said their master had come 
home in a strange way, 'and they heard a great sound 
of voices with him at the door; they also remarked that 
no rain ever did him so much harm, as he was ill for 
weeks after it. When he again came abroad, his blus- 

tering, familiar manner was gone; but as the tenants, 
one after another, complained of their exorbitant rents, 
he lowered them almost without persuasion. Soon 
afterwards he sold the property to an English gentle- 
man, and removed to Belfast, where he survived but a 
few years. 

Another curious point in the tale is that Father 
Dermot resigned his parish the same season, and sailed 
for America, where he became a farmer beside bis 
brother Brian ; and by their encouragement the entire 
family also disposed of their farm, and crossed the At- 
lantic, when times grew worse in Ireland. By these) 
events the lands of O'Lafferty and M'Lareu passed 
into the hands of strangers, and the ruins of their re- 
spective dwellings, now scarcely distinguishable, wers 
long pointed out by the peasantry in attestation of their 
legend of the " Dear Lease." 

Bi J. B. D. 

How noiseless glides the star-gemm'd car of Night 
Along the azure pathway of the Heav'ns ! 
With yon bright lamp, suspended by a hand 
Unseen, guiding, like Israel's pillar'd torch. 
The unechoing footsteps of her sable steeds, 
That, printless, beat the yielding ether road, 
And wheel her through the wilderness of worlds. 
How sad the sea, the city, and the plains 
Under her empire. ' Ghosts, in twilight shade. 
Flit mourning o'er the spectral-vessell'd main ; 
The rime-like hoar from her pale minister 
Winters the roof of house and fane, robing 
In dim snow the lone streets : symbolic shroud 
To all the silent sleeping multitudes. 
The plumed woods seem melancholy mourners, 
In misty light, surrounding Nature's tomb. 

These are thy earth-creations, solemn Night 1 

That tell of dolor to humanity. 

But raise, my thoughts, my vision to thyself, 

Serenely journeying 'mong the quiring orbs 

That ill the Infinite with endless song. 

Oh ! beauteous, mystic Night ! thee have I lov'd 

From fancy's earliest dawn in childhood's morn' — 

Fly not so swiftly from my charmed eye, 

That drops its curtain on day's garish shows, 

But looks unveil'd and loving upon thee. 

Stay, oh, Goddess ! stay till my enamonrM soul 

Drink in thy deepest moon-lit mysteries, 

And in exulting inspiration reel 

Straight upwards, dreaming, to thy circling throne, 

Where, spher'd with thee Til nightly track the skies. 

And commune with the starry universe. 


Secret sorrow, gloomy cares, 

Disgust towards the world and life ; 
Languid mind, that nothing dares, 

But yields, as in unequal strife : 
Poison, which an enemy's art 
Seems to shed o'er all my heart; 
My happiness you have destroy'd, 
And left within an aching void. 
Illusive hopes of early youth, 

Your loss I ever must deplore, 
Enchanting dreams dispcll'd by truth, 

For me ye will revive no more. 
There is a time for Wisdom's reign — 
That moment when the passions wane 
And cease to agitate the soul, 
So formed for Wisdom's mild control; 

But at that age, when all is fire, 
Hope's glowing pencil gilds the ■ 

And high the heart throbs with desire 
To taste its picturM joys, I ween, 
In fancy's glass how brightly seen ! 

Ah ! dangerous, then, the with to know 

The secret spring whence pleasures flow, 

The dear delusion to destroy 

Which gives or promises us joy. 

Such is the sad, unhappy cause 
Of this disquiet, this secret grief 

Which on my bosom preys and gnaws, 
Unceasing there without relief. 

Yes ! sad reflection is my foe, 

Myself, the cause of all my woe. 
Auehtennairnii. E. B, L. 

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I SAID to myself— What does the general reader 
know of Scandinavia, and especially of that portion 
of it called Denmark ? 

Why, he has heard of the daring ancient Da- 
nish sea-kings invading England, and also of one 
King Canute, concerning whom an instructive 
story is told by the old chroniclers in prose, and by 
William Wordsworth in verse ; he has heard of 
Elsinore, because it is immortalized in Hamlet ; 
he has heard of the bombardment of Copenhagen, 
and of Campbell's glorious ode, " The Battle of 
the Baltic ;" he has heard something about the 
Great Belt and the Little Belt, the Skaggor-Rack or 
Cattegat, and the Sound, bat assuredly has a most 
confused notion of their whereabouts ; he has heard 
of Thorwaldsen, the greatest sculptor of modern 
times, and of Hans Christian Andersen, the poet ; 
he has heard of the recent Schlcswig-Holstein 
question, and the heroic battlings of the Daues in 
their cause of right against might, and that the 
brother of Prince Albert commanded certain Ger- 
man batteries which sank their Christian VIII., 
and captured their Gefion frigate in the Bay of 
Eckenforde ; he has, also, from the days when he 
pored over " Gny's Geography'* at school, had an 
exceedingly vagne idea that Denmark, Sweden, 
and Norway, are frozen, desolate regions, shut out 
from the civilised world the greater portion of the 
year ; and as to the actual every-day life, manners, 
and customs of the people, ho knows about as much 
as he does of those of the dwellers in Terra del 

Thus I answered the question one dismal after- 
noon of the present month of November; and the 
result was, that in less than five minutes I had re- 
solved that at least one general reader (meaning 
myself) should remain no longer in such a state 
of ignorance. "I will go," said I, " forthwith, and, 
what is more, I will give satisfaction unto mino 
enemy,f if I hare one, for I will ' write a book,' 
by the medium of which my numerous brethren of 
the great family of general readers may become 
equally enlightened." 

My preparations were soon made. I had only 
to pen half-a-dozen letters, and pack a few books, 
linen, and sundries, in the smallest possiblo space, 
and I was ready to dopart. I am tin wanderande 

* I have written, and copied for the press, these " Introduc- 
tory Words," and all which follows, nearly down to my arrival 
at Srendborg, on board the little Danish craft conveying me 
(as hereafter described) from Kiel, in Ilolstein, to Svendborjj, 
in the island of Fnnen, in the Baltic Sea. Should I commit 
geographical, or other inaccuracies, the reader must make some al- 
lowance for the situation in which I write, as I have no "library" 
to refer to, and my only shipmates are two Danish tailors, who, 
I need hardly say, can give me no assistance. 

t " And I said, Ob, that mine enemy would write a book!" — 


vogd— a roamer hither and thither, to and fro'-— 
delighting to mix familiarly with people of divers 
nations, thereby treasuring up a knowledge of men 
and manners which, one day, may be turned tojjood 
account. No bright young eyes were dimmed at 
my departure ; no snowy arms were flung around 
my neck ; no fond young heart beat against mine 
in a sobbing farewell embrace. Yet, roamer as I 
am, blessed be God, I have some devoted Mends, 
and a loving father and mother, both of whom, I 
fervently pray, will live to welcome their own wan- 
derande vogel beneath their old roof-tree once more. 
At present I sing, with literal truth : — 

" When the long dun wolds are ribVd with enow, 
And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow, 
Alone I wander to and fro, 

I ought to remark that I have never read any 
guide-book, or work of travels, or of fiction, re- 
lating to the North of Europe. Tho former, I 
believe, confine their descriptions principally to the 
summer season, which is the only time when travel- 
lers think of penetrating into tho parts in question. 
I wish to supply this assumed desideratum. With 
few exceptions, all that I shall write will be from 
my own actual observation, or from information 
personally gathered from reliable sources ; and I 
shall, whenever practicable, scrupulously distin- 
guish the authority on which I make statements 
requiring confirmation. I am anxious to present a 
work which shall be as original and trustworthy as 
possiblo ; and rather than fail to give a vivid idea 
of tho roal unvarnished life of the people among 
whom my lot may be cast, I will risk being thought 
tediously minute in my jottings of their usage;. 
Tho modo in which these " Pictures'' are takou, 
viz. — to writo down my impressions at the mo- 
ment, and to send them off each month, so as to be 
presented at ouco to tho English public — has the 
drawback of precluding mo from correcting them 
by tho aid of subsequent knowledge ; but that 
drawback is counterbalanced by the freshness 
which, I tru-t, will pervado them. Moreover, I 
hope there can hardly occur any serious errors 
where I confine myself to external matters ; and I 
will, at the conclusion of the series, carefully point 
out any such which have been mado. I will give, 
in the course of my notes, the best information I 
can to guido any travellers who may bo tempted to 
follow my example. Finally, having thus frankly 
stated my intentions and hopes, let me, with sin- 
cere humility, ad<l, that I am conscious that my 
"Pictures" will bo, in some shape or other, far 
short of >what I conld wish ; but in this world, tho 
next best thing to that which never can bo attained 
is, an earnest, painstaking striving towards it. 

One word more. I propose to visit, in succes- 
sion, Sweden and Norway, and perhaps also Lap- 
land. In my next month's "Pictures" I shall 



probably be enabled to describe how we spent our 
Christmas and New Year's Day at Copenhagen. 
Meanwhile, I fervently waft yon, dear reader, the 
good old wish of "A Mebby Chbibtmab, and a 
Happt New Yeah !" 

~ William Hcrton. 

ax avcbok in a flobd 01 tbi baltic, ) 
November 29, 1849. > 



Daring a few months in summer and autumn, 
•teamers ply regularly from Hall to St Peters- 
burgh, and land passengers at Copenhagen. Tbe 
last steamer sailed this year about the end of Octo- 
ber ; and as it was nearly the end of November 
when I wished to depart, it behoved me to consider 
well what means would be the best to reach Co- 
penhagen, which I proposed for my chief, or, at 
any rate, my first winter residence. There were 
only two ways— one to go direct for Copenhagen by 
sea, in a sailing vessel ; and the other to go by stea- 
mer to Hamburgh, and thence through Schleswig- 
Holstein to Kiel, and so up the Baltio ; otherwise, 
to go from Hamburgh to Lubeek, and endeavour 
to get a passage from the small port of Traffe- 
munde, a few miles from the latter place. Now, 
with regard to the Hamburgh route, it is compara- 
tively a very easy matter in summer time, but to 
the last degree diffioult and utterly uncertain in 
winter. In tbe former season, steamers ply from 
Kiel to Copenhagen, and there are always plenty 
of sailing vessels also ; but in the latter, there are 
no steamers, and no sailing vessels, big or little, to 
be depended upon, on aceonnt of tbe harbours, and 
sometimes vast tracts of the Baltio itself, being 
frozen up from an early period. Aware of this, I 
was very anxious to secure a passage direct by sea; 
and I wrote to Hull, as being by far the most 
likely place to secure me one in a vessel of any 
description, and of any nation, but received answer 
that not one was, just then, " lying on" for the 
Baltic way, the season being so late. No resource 
remained but to get to Hamburgh, and I arrived at 
Leith on Saturday, 24th of November, 1849, and 
sailed the same evening in the Martello steamer for 
Hamburgh (distant about 600 miles) ; myself and 
a Danish gentleman, named Lofgren, being the 
only passengers. 

In my verse-making days (don't think that I am 
old now, for that matter, sweet lady), I remember 
publishing a "bit sang," commencing with the 
lines — 

" A smile on your face, and kind word on your tongue, 
Will serve you u passports all nations among j" 

and true enough have I ever found this, among 
people of foreign nations ; but, unhappily, there 
the exists a State regulation, justly dreaded by all 
travellers, which requires a formal, written, signed, 
and sealed piece of paper, called a passport, in 
which your person, address, and occupation are 
described, with more or less accuracy. To secure 
mine, I went to the office of the Danish Consul- 
General at Leith, in the morning, and left him my 
French passport from whioh to make out one for Den- 
nark, which be politely assured me should be ready 

for my signature in the afternoon. On calling- for 
it accordingly, I, to my surprise, was informed that 
be would not moke any charge { on unusual fact, 
which, I believe, I attribute rightly to his taking 
into consideration what mf object in visiting tbe 
North of Europe was. At any rate, his kindness 
deserves acknowledgment. 

I dearly love the ocean; and mentally did I ex- 
claim, as we swiftly left auld Sootia's shores — 
" Once more upon tbe waters ! yet once more; 

And the wares bound beneath me as a steed 

Which knows its rider." 

Yes, in the words of Hans Christian Andersen, 
whose personal acquaintance I hope soon to make — 

" I love the sea when its stormy billows roar ; 
I love it when its waves roll gently to the shore, 
And the pale moon-beams smile upon its blue expanse." 

To me the ocean never is monotonous — never pre- 
sents precisely the same aspect 

It was a glorious moonlight Saturday night, witli 
a fine, keen air; and as tbe Martello dashed onwards, 
for her last voyage this season, her wheels churned 
the water into foam resembling snow-flakes, aud 
tbe wavelets in her long wake glistened like quick- 

On Sunday the wind blew in our teeth, and grew 
fiercer and stronger, until the ship pitohed aud 
tossed right merrily. I am no curled dandy; and, I 
am thankful to say, I can always sleep on a soft 
plank, bite hard biscuits, and relish salt junk — ac- 
complishments which every puking valetudinarian 
would do well to take lessons in. Wrapped simply 
in my old sea-cloak, I stretohod myself on a locker 
for the night, as I thought : ah! how maoy nights, 
on sea and land, have I enjoyed a sleep which 
kings and millionaires would onvy, with no other 
bed than that dear old oloak ! There are three 
things whioh acoompany me in all my wandering), 
and are ever by my side — my cloak, my Bible, and 
my Burns ; all three the gift of that fond mother 
whose eyes will overflow with tears as they devour 
these lines. Never will I part with either ; and per- 
chance it may ultimately be with me as Eliza Cook 
sweetly sings of a sailor boy, who went to sea with 
a cloak, his mother's gift, and when, many years 
afterwards, he was dying in a far-off foreign land, 
hugged it around him, and expired with the words, 
" My cloak — thou'rt warmest !'' on his lips. 

I was saying, that wrapped in my oloak, I had 
turned in for the night The machinery was groan- 
ing, the beams and bulks were croaking and shriek- 
ing; the wind was howling, and mercilessly striking 
the vessel with the force of a battery of mighty 
sledge-hammers. Yet the only sensation I ex- 
perienced was a decidedly pleasureable one. My 
spirits always rise in a storm, and now my soul felt 
proudly elate; for, somehow, it seemed as though 
I were brought into direct communion with Him 
who " holds the ocean in tbe hollow of His hand;" 
" whose way is in the sea," and " whose paths are 
in the great waters;" who " speaks in tempests," 
and "who walks on the wings of the wind." I had 
just fallen asleep, alone and in darkness, a little 
before midnight, when a tremendous crash awoke 
me, and at the same moment the water poured 
down the companion »U0>— which I had left open 



•—In a perfect cataract, for a roll minute. I felt 
the ship quiver and collapse throughout with the 
stroke; and, knowing it must be a rery heary 
aea she had shipped, .sprang up, and with diffi- 
culty groped my way to the ladder, at the foot of 
which the surging water, on the floor of the dark 
cabin, emitted an extremely beautiful phospho- 
rescent light *It literally seemed alive with fiery 
serpents, wreathing and disporting. . On emerging 
on deck, I had the satisfaction to stagger along 
knee-deep through the water, to the galley, where 
I dried myself by the fire. 

During the remainder of the night, the decks 
were washed fore and aft every few minutes ; and 
mingled hail, rain, snow, and frocen sleet came 
down on us with the storm-wind. But there was 
that on board which rose superior to the grandeur 
and power of the elemental strife—I mean the 
glorious Intellect of Mas I It was at work also ; 
and wheresoever it laboureth, the mightiest or- 
ganic elements are conquered, and made blind ser- 
vitors, instead of tyrannous rulers. Sooth, it is a 
thought that ought, of itself, to elevate mortality 
beyond the peddling petty cares and figments of 
worldly life and strife; for oh, what sublime ideas 
doth it not shadow forth of our future state in the 
infinitely purer existence which awaits us beyond 
the grave ! 

Although, ever and anon, the machinery fairly 
paused to gather strength for the next stroke, yet 
onward strided the iron ship — cleaving the pathless 
ocean, and buried, so to speak, in the awe-striking 
war of nature — her giant fabric sternly and un- 
swervingly bore along perfectly uninjured, as though 
the Almighty's own finger upheld and guided her 
on her way. I could not but mentally contrast the 
present state of nautical knowledge, theoretical and 
practical, with that of some centuries bygone ) and 
when I balanced this ship, and the way she was 
handled, with the vessels of, say four hundred years 
ago, manned by unskilful sailors— creeping along 
from shore to shore, from headland to headland, 
and distraught if they happened to get out of sight 
of land for a few days in the summer months— I 
must say that I felt a thrill of proud emotion 
at the evidence of the noble progression manifest 
in this, as in every other pursuit to which the 
human mind has been continuously directed. 

The weather remained nearly as bad the whole 
of Monday, but moderated somewhat early on Tues- 
day morning, although, in the words of the " An- 
went Mariner," 

"And then there came both mist sad snow, 
Ami it grew wondrous oold." 

A few noon after daybreak, we beheld the first 
land since leaving Leith, being none other than the 
celebrated island of Heligoland, which lies far out 
at sea, and about twenty-five to thirty miles from 
the mouth of the Elbe. Its nftno u dorirod, from I 
HaUg*— Holy Island. It is little better than a 
long, desolate rock, rising probably two hundred 
feet above the level of the sea, with a species 
of sandy beach on one side, which is parcelled out 
in a few fields and gardens. There was, a while 
back, only on* cow upon it, but many Friesland 
•beep j though how they manage to live is a mystery. 

Heaven must, indeed, temper both wind and hanger 
to them ! There is a little town perched upon it; 
and daring the present century it has sprang up 
into considerable reputation as a visiting and 
bathing place for the Hambnrghers, who love 
to inhale the fresh air of the stormy North Sea 
during the summer months. The dwellings are 
said to be models of neatness, both inside and out; 
and, as locks for doors are unknown, one would 
presume that a primitive state of manners is pre- 
valent; and, perhaps, even that blessing of blessings, 
the nan -existence of any lawyer. Moat of the in* 
habitants, who number two to three thousand, more 
or less, follow the sea as fishermen, pilots, &o., and 
have the reputation of being very indolent, and 
exorbitant in their demands for services. In 1807, 
Heligoland passed from the po sses sion of Denmark 
to England, and has belonged to the latter aver 
sine*. A garrison of five hundred to a thousand 
men was maintained until 1821 ; but now there are, 
I believe, few or no soldiers, and only a governor 
(par excellence ) who was formerly a captain in the 
navy, and has a salary of £1,000 a-year. There 
is also a clergyman, who is paid £100 a-year by 
the State. The civil administration of the little 
territory is said to be sufficiently despotic; but the 
dwellers are perfectly satisfied with it. 

As we approached the Elbe, the weather grew 
bitter cold, and the salt spray froie the moment it 
fell on beard. We passed Cuxhaven, a little way 
up the river, which, at the month, is very wide, and 
had numbers of vessels, of all nations, sailing or 
anchoring about it. The coast on both sides the 
river is low, and apparently uninteresting. By- 
and-by we could discern the Holstein shore, 
clothed with snow ; and the cold grew so palpably 
intense, that it became an anxious question as to 
whether the Elbe would not be found frosen era 
we reached Hamburgh, which is eighty miles from 
the month of the former. Doubt was soon exchanged 
for certainty, for by passing vessels we learned that 
the river was frozen at Hamburgh that morning, 
and our pilot derided on our going no further than 
Grluckstadt, which is on the left bank of the river, 
in the Duchy of Holstein, and about thirty English 
miles below Hamburgh. The Martello, accordingly, 
stopped off the town about 6 p.m., and boats put off 
from the shore for the passengers. As both myself 
and Mr. LofgrSn were exceedingly desirous to get 
on to Hamburgh that night if possible, we hailed 
to know when the train left for the latter place- 
as there is a railway, which passes from Kiel 
through Gluckstadt to Altona (opposite Ham- 
burgh). The reply was that the last train had left 
half-an-hour before. After a brief consideration, 
we both agreed to land, and four stoat oarsmen 
propelled us towards the town. As we approached 
the shore, they had to pall hard to force their way 
through the floating masses of ice. On nearing 
the pier we were eagerly hailed as to the name of 
the steamer. The only medium for ascending this 
pier was a number of strips of wood, nailed in one 
place from pile to pile, precisely like the staves of 
a ladder. It was a perfectly easy matter for me to 
go aloft this way, but I •raid not help marvelling 
how ft wonMUpbeen with lady gangers, for 






apparently there was no other means of landing, 
as the river was frozen all the way beyond the 
pier. I climbed gaily enough, despite fingers 
tingling with cold, and then, stooping down, grasped 
the hand of my companion, and raised him by my 
side on the pier of Gluckstadt. 



• " And having effected yonr characteristic land- 
ing," saith my reader, " I suppose Mr. Wandtr- 
ande. Vogel, yon were forthwith marched off to un- 
dergo the custom-house ordeal — a custom * better 
honoured,' to your thinking, ' in the breach than in 
the . observance,! eh ?" Softly, dear reader ; no 
such thing. By the blessed law of the Duchies, 
travellers whose destination is . beyond the place 
they are landed at, are there subjected to no exa- 
mination whatever, but may walk off, bag and bag- 
gage, just as they please. My destination was 
Copenhagen, and my companion's, Hamburgh; so 
we were both in the favoured category. 

My first impression on gaining the pier was a 
vivid idea of the extraordinary contrast of scenery 
whioh a few days' swift transit had enabled me to 
realiie. Here I was literally in a new world. All 
around was ice and snow. The latter lay to the 
depth of perhaps six to nine inches, was fine as dust, 
and creaked sharply beneath the tread. Overhead 
hung a cloudless sky, with a brilliant moon, sur- 
rounded by a slight halo; and, scattered few and far 
between, in the gleaming expanse of heaven, were 
stars of dazzling, beauty, which sparkled in the keen 
air, and, through the purity of the atmospheric 
medium, seemed to the eye to be enlarged to an 
unusual size. 

i The boatmen who conveyed us, joined by some 
amphibious- looking hangers-on, after a long gabble, 
apportioned our united luggage among themselves, 
and, so far as I could perceive, for each article there 
were two able-bodied men, all neine- ing and ya-ing, 
and stamping together. With this regiment at our 
heels, we accompanied one Heinrich Falck to his 
hotel, situated at no great distance from the har- 
bour. Contrary to my expectations, the troop were 
not very exacting in their demands, and gathered 
round the bar to swallow the fruits of their labour. 
We were soon comfortably ensconced in a quaint 
apartment, with ceiling of planks overhead, and 
heated, as usual, by a stove. The kitchen strongly 
renynded me of an English one, and had its rows of 
plates of the English willow pattern, which is fonnd 
all the world over. 

The room in which I slept was a narrow double- 
bedded one, the tenant of the other bed being a 
military officer. I may describe the bed, as it was 
a model of others which I saw in a very respect- 
able hotel in Kiel, and I have no doubt all in the 
country are similar- in fashion. It consisted of a 
frame, with, deep sides of wood, and four posts 
rising a few inches above the said sides. The bot- 
tom of the bed was of planks, and the body was 
filled level to the top of the sides with straw. Over 
this straw was simply doubled a strong unbleached 
homespun sheet, on which) you reposed, with a bot- 
tle of hot water at your feet, and for covering had 

a slight and perfectly loose bed, probably filled with 
down of the eider duck, mixed with feathers of other 
northern wild fowls. A pillow of the samedescription 
supported your head. There were no blankets or any 
other thing whatever than those I have enumerated ; 
and the whole bed had a steep declination from head 
to foot. A more comfortable bed than this proved, 
I would not desire; but, as the reader will perhaps 
rightly conclude from other parts of my notos, I am 
by no means fastidious in this respect, and almost 
any couch would have secnred a sound repose after 
the preceding three rough, sleepless nights. 

Instead of starting for Hamburgh, I had resolved 
to proceed to Kiel by the first train in the morning; 
and the result of an overnight conversation with 
Mr. Lofgrin (a most intelligent young man, who 
spoke Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, German, and 
English, with equal facility), was, that he gave 
me advice and information, and a letter of intro- 
duction to his friend, Mr. Marolly, likewise a Dane, 
and British Consul at Kiel, and I started, according- 
ly, at 8 a.m., for the railway station, guided by 
my obliging host, whose house I can conscientiously 

Gluckstadt is the capital of the Duohy of Hols- 
tein,* and has about 6,000 inhabitants. From the 
superficial glance I had of it, it appeared to be in 
no respect remarkable. The most distinguishing 
feature of the neat houses, to me, was the great 
number of good-sized windows which each contained. 
The light of heaven cannot be taxed here. One 
large and curious-looking building, full of large win- 
dows, on the opposite side of the harbour, attracted 
my notice, as we walked along ; and I inquired of 
Falck whether it was not the Town Hall, or some 
similar building, but was astonished on being told 
that it was a place appropriated to the confinement 
of prisoners for life. I asked what crime they had 
committed to incur this dreadful penalty, and was 
told that most of them were convicted of manslay- 
ing. In answer to further particular inquiry, he 
assured me that executions for murder were exceed- 
ingly rare, and were only inflicted in very aggravated 
cases. I would willingly have acquired a know- 
ledge of the species of discipline to which these life- 
captives were subjected, had time permitted Many 
vessels, including two Greenlandmen belonging to 
Gluckstadt, were frozen up in the little harbour. 

At the station I paid for my carpet-bag and 

* The Dachiet of Holstein and Schleswig, the names of which 
hare so recently become familiar with the English public, com- 
prise with that of Lauenburg, altogether a territory of above 
8,000 square miles, and a population little short of 800,000 soul*. 
Up to the period of the late war, they were an integral part of 
the Danish dominions, bnt speak dialects of the German lan- 
guage, and always have been governed by their own peculiar laws. 
The largest town in Holstein is Altona, the population of which 
is 30,000, and consequently next to that of Copenhagen. I do 
not wish to enter into any political disquisitions here, and need 
only observe, that at the time I write, a doubtful armistice 
subsists between Denmark and the Duchies, which were backed 
in the late war, as is well known, by the vast power of Germany. 
Their present condition is most anomalous. . They, in fact, vir- 
tually constitute a republic, having the seat of its Provisional 
Government and representation at Kiel, and maintain an army 
of 30,000 men, as I am told on good authority. Prussia yet 
has a very large force in these Duchies, but has just threatened 
to withdraw it, and leave Denmark Proper, and the Duchies, to 
4ght it out between themselves. t zed 




trunk, about twepence English each, receiving (as 
is the system on most continental lines), a ticket, 
the corresponding number of which was pasted on 
them. I took a third-class fare for Kiel, a distance 
of about sixty English miles, the charge being three 
shillings English, or only one halfpenny per mile ; 
and I assert, without exaggeration, that the car- 
riages were decidedly more comfortable than second- 
class ones generally are in England. In size and 
internal arrangement, they resembled English third- 
class, and were well lighted with glazed and 
tightly-fitting windows. The railway itself ap- 
peared an exoellently made one, constructed, I was 
told, by Scotch engineers. On starting, the sun 
shone brightly; and feathery particles of snow 
drifted like glittering fragments of diamonds across 
its slanting beams. The rate of speed at which the 
train proceeded was slow. 

At Elmshorn, I had to change carriages for 
Kiel, and staid about half-an-hour at the station, 
the refreshment room of which is really most ele- 
gant; and, although the decorations are pro- 
bably considerably less expensive (as likewise the 
structure itself), than those of most English sta- 
tions, so much pleasing taste is evinced in them, 
that I wish my own countrymen would condescend 
to take a pattern. 

On the route to Kiel, the glimpses obtainable of 
the surrounding country most strongly reminded 
me of a well-cultivated flat English county. There 
were numerous fields, and neat wayside cottages, 
with occasionally little secluded hamlets. I believe 
that most Englishmen make the same observation, 
and say that in other parts of the Dnchies the re- 
semblance is still more striking and minute. 
. When I arrived at Kiel, I lost no time in going 
inquest of Mr. Marolly, and after some search suc- 
ceeded in finding his residence. By waiting 
there awhile, I had the pleasure (for such indeed it 
proved), of making his personal acquaintance. He 
is a young man, and, as I before mentioned, a Dane, 
bnt speaks good English, and is of very superior 
intelligence. After perusing my letter of introduc- 
tion, he at once offered his best services, evi- 
dently in a most sincere- spirit. Having explained 
to him the objeot of my journey, and my anxiety 
to get to Copenhagen as soon as possible, by any 
means of transit, he considored what to advise. He 
said there were, he thought, only one or two very 
little vessels bound for Copenhagen, and forthwith 
sallied out with me to make inquiries. Having 
found the captain of one of them, he bargained on 
my behalf for a passage, as the vessel was to sail 
that evening. It was arranged that whatever 
length short of five days the voyage might prove, 
I was to stay on board full that time ; the Danish 
quarantine law being still in strict operation, by 
which not any traveller is permitted to land until 
he has been five clear days from the last port he 
left. Passing quarantine at Copenhagen, itself is 
frequently a most expensive affair. Mr. Marolly 
told me that in September he had himself to pass 
it there for a brief period, and that it cost, him in 
fees and other expenses, £6 sterling. In some cases 
it is far more serious. By remaining on board the 
vessel five days, and getting the same certified 

(if necessary) on my passport, by the captain, it 
was hoped I should avoid further detention and 

This matter arranged, we dined together at the 
table d'hote of the Stadt Copenhagen, kept by a 
good fellow named Carl Heinrich, who humorously 
described himself to me as being the first citizen of 
the state (ttaaUburger). The table was tolerably 
well supplied; and, with the exception of myself, the 
guests were nearly all military and civil employees of 
the Schleswig-Hol stein government, who habitually 
dine there, and meet again for coffee in the morning. 

After dinner, I went forth alone, for a ramble 
over the town, which is seated on a fiord or firth 
of the Baltic, and has a population of between 
8,000 and 10,000 souls. It has a University, and 
is the seat of the presentG-overninent of tho Duohies. 
It is celebrated for its noble canal, navigable by ves- 
sels of a considerable size, which connects the Baltic 
with the German Ocean. I found it a far more lively 
place than might be expected, with good streets 
(although rather narrow), and decent, bnt appar- 
ently scantily-stocked, shops of various kinds. The 
houses seemed well built, with abundance of win- 
dows, those on the ground floor being frequently 
of peculiar shapes. The first floors of the better 
sorts were generally fitted with folding wings, after the 
French fashion. The rooms are heated with stovos, 
and I question whether such a thing as a fire-grate 
in the English style is to be found in any sitting- 
room in the place. Some of these stoves are very 
elegant-looking articles. The largo one in Mr. 
Marolly's sitting-room was about eight feet high, 
with a handsome gilt statue placed on its square 
top, and would not have disgraced a London draw- 
ing-room. Little stands in his room (which alto- 
gether had such a light, cheery appearance, that, 
but for the snow seen through the large windows,' 
I could have thought myself in a continental apart- 
ment in the summer season) sustained glass basins, 
&c, imbedded in moss and artificial flowers, which 
had a very pretty effect Its floor, like all others - 
which I saw in Kiel, was of polished Hard wood, 
much after the Parisian fashion. The stairs were 
also of similar materials ; and carpets are rarely 
used in any part of the houses. 

There is an immense church, built entirely of 
brick, with a huge square tower, and a very lofty 
hexagonal spire. In the market square, foot sol- 
diers were on parade, and the number of them to 
be met with posted as sentinels in the streets, re- 
minded me strongly of French towns. They ap- 
peared to be nearly all very young men, being 
doubtless levies raised during the late war. Their 
physioal appearance was good, and they were well 
dressed, in neat uniforms suitable for the sea- 
son. They wore bronze helmets, with a peak, and 
brass ornaments. Their arms were musket and 
bayonet, and a short straight sword, similar to 
that used by the French troops. Sledges of dif- 
ferent fashions, occupied by ladies, were rattling 
through the streets. Some of these elegant vehicles 
were drawn by one, and others by two horses, with 
a handsome white net- work thrown over their backs, 
and each with a row of three or four little bells 
jingling from a frame on their shoulder-harasss. 




▲ leopard or a bear-skin apron U in front of the 
▼eludes, and behind projects a (tout piece of wood, 
covered with leather, and about eighteen inches 
long, which a man holds on by, to balance, and, in 
soma measure, guide the sledge whilst in motion. 
The children in the streets and outskirts had little 
rude sledges of their own, on which they were draw- 
ing and propelling one another; and, in some in- 
stances, a boy, standing upright oh a simple pieoe 
of plank, about a foot square, with two parallel 
smooth-edged riders underneath, forced himself 
over the frosted surface with an iron-spiked shaft, 
at a considerable speed. Throughout the town, 
merchandise of every description was being con- 
veyed along on strong sledges. On a piece of frozen 
water, scores of youths were skating, most of them 
smoking cigars, which here may be had for a half- 
penny, equal to those which would cost from three- 
pence to sixpence in England. The open air felt 
most exhilarating when walking briskly, and so 
keen was it, that fire minutes' exposure sufficed to 
turn my mustache into a frosen mass, by the me- 
dium of my congealed breath. The feeling with 
which the people of Kiel regard the Danish quarrel 
seemed to me significantly expressed by the foot 
that, in numerous shop windows, there were rations 
prints representing the explosion of the Danish 
ship-of-the-liue, Christian VIII., and the capture 
of the Gefion, with appropriate letter-press. 

The lamps which light the streets are large, 
handsome oil ones, and are suspended from a light 
iron crane fixed to the walls. One end of a small 
chain, passing over sheaves in blocks, on the under 
side of the crane, is attached to the top of the 
lamp, and the other end of the chain goes round a 
small roller, protected from the weather by a box 
fastened to the wall, with an orifice for a key, by 
means of which the lamp is lowered or raised for 
the purpose of lighting, &c ; thus obviating the ne- 
cessity of ascending by a ladder, which, in the 
slippery state of the streets during the long winter 
jnonths, would be very liable to slip out at the foot. 
I was interested by this simpleand ingenious method, 
which I had never seen elsewhere. In very narrow 
streets, iron bars are linked across, and the lamp 
is suspended from the centre, and lowered and 
raised in a similar manner. 

There is a beautiful promenade, planted with 
trees, leading from the side of the quay, far away 
along the shore of the upper part of the wide fiord. 
I walked a considerable distance upon it, and was 
pleased with the novel and beautiful prospects it 
commanded. In some places it rises to a consider- 
able height, the snow-wreaths fringing its sides, 
and the fiord itself, with the opposite shore, pre- 
senting picturesque features. Here and there, on 
the precipitous side next the fiord, are very hand- 
some villas, painted with lively colours, and full of 
windows. On the promenade near the town was 
a considerable body of troops exercising. Two or 
three vessels were building near the quay, at which 
lay a few brigs, and a number of small craft. The 
chorus of the sailors of one of the largest brigs, as 
they laboured at discharging her cargo, floated 
musically on the clear air ) and, occasionally, the 
prolonged report of a sportsman'! gun was wafted 
mellowly from the opposite shore. 

Altogether, I should say that, in the summer 
season, Kiel must be a very agreeable residence for 
those who can dispense with the bustle and luxuries 
of large cities. 

In the evening, Mr. Marolly met me by appoint- 
ment, and brought news that the destination of 
Captain Piil was changed from Copenhagen to 
Rudkiobing, in the island of Langelaad; whereupon 
I covenanted anew to go with him to that place, as 
I could thenoe manage to reach Copenhagen by aw* 
and land in two or three days. He particularly 
begged I would be on board by ten r. K. With 
that view I sent a man to take my luggage to the- 
vessel at 8 o'clock; but, to my blank disappointment, 
he soon returned with the intelligence that worthy- 
Captain Piil, not having the fear of broken promisee 
before his eyes, had actually sailed already without 
me. On this, Mr. Marolly sent for the captain of 
a Danish craft belonging to, and bound for, S vend- 
borg, in the island of Fnnen, which was to sail that 
night. The captain promptly attended, but wan 
evidently most reluctant to take mo as a passenger. 
He started objection after objection; but my power- 
ful friend oombated them at every point, and I 
aided by every suggestion I could think of. Finally, 
he consented to receive the wanderande vogtl aboard 
his ark for five days or upwards ; but he hoped I 
would lay in a stock of food for myself, as he had 
nothing but his ordinary ship's provisions. This 
did not at all suit my views, as I particularly wished 
to avail myself of a genuine opportunity, whioh 
might never occur again, of elosely observing tho 
every-day life and fare of that numerous class of his 
Danish Majesty's subjects who "go down to the) 
sea in ships, and do business on the great waters." 
I therefore most urgently said that he need not 
fear of failing to suit me, for I oonld eat anything, 
and sleep anywhere. This last bulwark re- 
moved, and a bargain being struck on the captain's 
own terms (vis., for my passage and food during 
five days a sum equal to only about fifteen shillings 
English, and so many Danish marcs for each day 
beyond tho five), he grew more cordial over a stiff 
glass, and departed with the understanding that I 
would be on board by ten o'clock. 

When he was gone, Mr. Marolly (who frankly 
said that he himself should by no means relish such 
a voyage as I was about to undertake), told me that 
probably part of the poor fellow's objection to taking 
me arose from the fact that men of his class fre- 
quently did a little smuggling, in which case the 
presence of a third party was, of course, no deside- 
ratum. I laughed, and said I would pledge my 
word that, ere the voyage was ended, we should be 
fast friends enough. 

At the appointed hour, Mr. Marolly saw me on 
board; and I here cordially thank him for his most 
friendly exertions on my behalf. Should any Bri- 
tish subject require advice or aid in Kiel, he will 
find in the above gentleman a British coaxal worthy 
of the name. . 



And what, thinks the reader, was the species of 
craft in which I was to mak*(mj fa* nparins. 


i of life afloat in the Baltic. A regular ship-of-the- 
> line, be assured 1 As already mentioned, she be- 
i longed to, and was hound for, Svendborg, in the 
island of Funen, in Denmark Proper. Her name 
was Enigheetns Minde, and her noble skipper's was 
i Berthel Heinsen. Her crew consisted of one man — 
i and no boy. Total of captain, crew, and passenger 
—three able-bodied men. Her dimensions were 
thirty to thirty-fire feet long, by ten or eleven feet 
breadth of beam. She had one good-sized, upright 
red-pine mast, with ratlins to its shrouds, and 
long bowsprit and jib-boom. She hoisted a large 
spread of canvas, consisting of gaff-and-boom main- 
sail, foresail, staysail, jib, and flying-jib, all of new 
canvas, and was well found in stores. Her burthen 
could not exceed twenty tons; her mould was a very 
pretty one, and she was a neat and strongly-built 
craft, as I can pronounce, having had considerable 
practical experience in vessel-building from boy- 
hood. Over her counter-stern was suspended a 
neat little skiff, from davits. 

Descend with me to the cabin. The top is raised 
on a level with the bulwarks, and you enter, stern 
foremost, through a little folding door, reaching 
from the front of the cabin top to the deck, and just 
large enough to admit your passage. A ladder of 
four steps will enable you to reach the floor, but 
very possibly your legs are long enough without its 
aid. Once in, shut the door, and survey your do- 
main. It is about eight feet square at top, but, 
owing to the rake of the stern, and the shape of the 
" runs," not more than about five feet by three feet 
at bottom. It is just high enough for you to sit 
upright, if you are not very tall, and is lighted by 
two little stern-windows, and a piece of thick glass 
ridged on the under side, let into the deck over- 
head. Between the stern-post and the nearest 
timbers are little shelves, thickly studded with bot- 
tles, cups, pots, and other utensils, some of them 
being of quaint and primitive device. A little deal 
table, about two feet square, is fastened against the 
stern, (on which table has been written all you have 
hitherto read of these notes.) and underneath it is 
a barrel of Danish beer, with a plug in the top in 
lieu of a screw. Looking forward, you behold a 
small chest against the bulkhead, containing the 
valuables of the skipper — his holiday clothes, ves- 
sel's register, bills of lading, dec. Above it is a tiny 
mirror and a shelf, and to its left Is a stove, propor- 
tionate in size with the cabin. On either side the 
vessel is a sleeping berth ; that on the larboard 
side being partially closed, and the skipper's own, 
(N.B.— He lieth snoring in it, half doubled up, as I 
write this at midnight,) whilst that on the starboard 
is quite open, and is intended for the wanderemde 
vogtL Fast seats run alongside the berths, and a 
shifting one crosses them in a line with the side of 
the table. Loaves of rye, kegs of butter, huge 
parcels of tobacco, coils of rope, Nor* westers, flasks 
of spirits, and an almost inexhaustible variety of 
miscellaneous articles, "too numerous to particu- 
larise," as an auctioneer would say, are crammed 
in every nook and corner. Suspended from a 
hook in elose proximity to the stove permanently 
Jiangs the captain's silver watch, a queer, old- 
fashioned thing, with the name of the maker, "Nel- 

son, London,"* staring you in the face. I say, par* 
manently hangs, because, with the exoeption of once 
seeing Berthel Heinsen take it off to wind it np, I 
never beheld its place vacant. From the same hook 
are suspended a leathern shot-pouch, and a bulbous- 
shaped wooden powder-flask, the springs of each 
encrusted with rust ; but I found they respectively 
held a considerable quantity of lead and of " villan- 
ous saltpetre." Their close proximity to the stove 
would be somewhat startling to a nervous person, 
but did not rob me of a single wink. Honest Ber- 
thel Heinsen probably holds the same opinion as 
Oliver Cromwell did respecting the propriety of 
keeping his powder dry. Overhead is an array 
of knives and forks, of all sorts and sizes, thrust 
into the interstices between a beam and the deck. 
I will conclude my inventory by describing my bed. 
Its foundations were unbent sails, with accompany- 
ing cordage. On these I was to repose, and for a 
covering there was a small feather-bed. Tbe head 
of my bed, which went up to the stern, was raised to- 
lerably high, and, on examination one morning, I 
found that this tumulus was composed of an old sail, 
a coil of ropes, two or three rye loaves, hard as stones, 
a cast-off pair of trousers, a Nor'wester, and a pil- 
low to crown all. This was very well, and 1 had 
only two faults to find with the bed ; one, that the 
size of tbe vessel did not permit it to be so long as 
I desired, and the other, that my over-all feather- 
bed only reached from my feet to my waist. I 
easily remedied the latter defect, by employing my 
cloak on a service it had so often performed before. 

There, reader ! if you have not now a sufficient 
idea of our cabin, it is not my fault. We had a 
forecastle as well ; but, as that was the exclusive 
domain of the one man, and he had only just room 
to turn in it, I won't intrude on him. 

In person the skipper was a stout, red-faced, 
good-looking man, of about five-and-forty years of 
age, somewhat stolid in expression, and exquisitely 
deliberate in all his movements ; but, as he wore 
ear-rings, shaved closely, adorned his cabin with a 
mirror some three inches square, and smoked, in a 
long pipe, certain tobacco which never paid duty, 
and was " the best under the sun" — (this must be 
true, for it was so asserted on the package thereof 
in no less than three languages — Latin, French, 
and Dutch) — probably he had been a bit of a Bal- 
tic dandy in his younger days. His factotum was 
one Lars Andersen, a lively and most pleasant- 
looking old sea- dog, of sixty or upwards ; so good- 
humoured, simple, and kind ; so contented, cheer- 
ful, and self-denying ; that my heart really warmed 
towards him from the first moment of our acquain- 

Soon as I was on hoard, the vessel unmoored, 
and spread her light wings. We sailed till the 
" sma' hours," and then came to an anchor, the 
captain proposing to return to Kiel in the morning, 
to take in more cargo, provided the fiord was net 

• It is a curious fact that, on examining tbe watches impended 
in at least half-a-dozen watchmakers' shops in Kiel, I found that 
literally the majority of them were rery old-fashioned ones, bear- 
ing; the name of " Nelson, London." Verily, there must bare 
been, at some remote period, an extraordinary importation of 
that maker-, good, into the^tol d by ( 


frozen in the night — an anticipation the great pro- 
bability of which had induced him to leave har- 
bour orer night. We closely passed, I believe, the 
little bay of Eckenforde, a name which, a few 
months ago, sounded through the world for the first, 
and, perhaps, tho last time, in consequence of the 
attempt made by the Danish line-of-battlo-ship, 
Christian VIII., and the steam frigate Gefion, to 
destroy the German batteries planted on shore there, 
and commanded by the brother of Prince Albert. 
The result of that enterprise was that the Christian 
VIII. took ground, and begged a truce for an hoar 
or two. At its expiration, she was riddled with 
red-hot balls, and blow up and sunk ; five hundred 
of her crew perishing with her. The Gefion was 
captured, and her name has been changed to 

" In the course of the night I was awakened by 
the grinding of floating massos of ice against the 
sides of the vossel; and the skipper sprang — no, that 
is wrong, for I do not suppose his powers of loco- 
motion equal to snch a feat — rolled (that is the 
word) out of his berth, and went on deck to " take 
an observation." The visitation soon passed; but 
occasionally stray pieces of ice struck us until 
morning. The air which came into the cabin 
through the ill-fitting doorway was piercingly cold, 
and the cup of steaming coffee which good old Lars 
brought me at daybreak, was verily welcome. 
After quaffing it, I roused out of my berth, and 
went on deck. The scene there was neither ex- 

tended nor remarkably inviting, yet, from its 
novelty, had interest for me. Hoar frost, at least 
an inch thick, totally nnlike anything of the kind 
seen in Britain, and resembling nothing so much 
as the sweet substance confectioners call "mow," 
coated vessel and rigging. Not a sound was to be 
heard, save the startling scream of passing wild- 
birds, and the gentle ripple of the water against 
the cable. A dense vapour arose from the surface 
of the fiord (a proof of the intensity of the cold), 
and closely shrouded us. We burned no light on 
deck, neither now nor at any subsequent period 
during the voyage ; and certainly had any vessel of 
size come looming upon us, down the bonny E n- 
igheetns Minde must have gone, and the reader 
would, probably, have been spared the trouble of 
perusing these "Pictures." 

I danced, ex tempore, very original pat seuXs 
on deck for a long spell, to earn an appetite for 
breakfast, which consisted of block rye-bread, bat- 
ter, bacon, and liver fried in a "wee" iron pot ; cold 
meat, rum, and brcendevun; a breakfast fit for a 
prince, let me tell you ! — that is, supposing his 
royal highness were afloat in the Baltic in a tiny 
bark. The rye-bread was so hard that it required 
a very powerful arm and sharp knife to cut it, and 
had a sour taste ; but I speedily grow to like it very 
much, and used to munch it with infinite relish. 
Tho brcendeviin is a species of brandy, made from 
wheat. It looks precisely like water, and has a 
most peculiar taste, and a strong earthy smell. 


ItjSADSK, did yon ever see a man who had fallen 
into the water, more bewildered by tho shouts of 
the mob that were handing him a rope for his res- 
cue, than by either tho risk or the immersion? Such 
is' at present the case of the British farmer. Wo 
have been accustomed to hear that the farmer is be- 
hind the age : and so he is. Science has long been 
tired of making discoveries for men whose highest 
ambition was to farm as theirfatbers farmed. Litera- 
ture and the press have teemed for them with infor- 
mation ; but in vain. In England and in Ireland 
the more systematic processes of instruction — 
scarcely yet extended to Scotland, which, strange 
to tell, is almost destitute of the means of agricul- 
tural education — have, with much promise, made 
but littlo impression. But the farmer has been 
roused from his apathy at last; ho has fallen soujo 
into the water, which has wakened him up a little; 
he is very anxious, no doubt, to regain terra firma; 
aqd it is under theso identical circumstances that 
we see the crowd around the immersed farmer, per- 
forming the scene to which wo have just alluded. 

Mr. Caird, of Baldour, Wigton shire, is one of 
those who are handing the farmer the rope. It is 
"High Farming." Mr. Caird has added "High 
Farming, under Liberal Covenants, a substitute for 
Protection;" but it is not necessary for ns to con- 
sider for what high farming is or is not a substitute. 
The public excitement li about the thing itself; and 


we prefer at present that the reader's attention 
should not be distracted by political considerations. 

There are others, as well as Mr. Caird, who join 
in the rescue But they are rather standing by and 
shouting than lending any great hand. Lord Kiu- 
naird is one of these. His shout is, " Farm high, 
and use guano;" but his lordship is a far abler 
writer than a farmer. And if Mr. Caird has drawn 
a nest of hornets on his head, to speak without dis- 
paragement of the host of opposition pamphlets 
that have been launched at that part of his per- 
sonal organisation, Lord Rinnaird is assailed with 
scarcely less vehemence and effect. The Carse far- 
mers have girded up their loins against him by 
dozens; and his lordship, like a prise-fighter at a 
fair, stands calling only for fair play — one down, 
another on : the noble Baron of Rossio takes any 
odds. The truth is, that the Carse farmers are not 
high farmers. It is the great corn district of Scot- 
laud ; and only commenced turnip husbandry in 
1835. Only for the drainage improvements which 
the few intervening years since then have intro- 
duced so largely into Scotland, they could not pro- 
bably have done the little they have done in this 
direction. Bat even now, Lord Kinnaird, who par- 
ries tho thrusts at him by generously republishing 
the " Answers" of the farmers, " revised by Lord 
Kinnaird," that is, interlarded with sauce-piquant, 
1 in the form of a running commentary, will not alio* 
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the belt Garie farmer* any knowledge of stock. 
He boasts of having introduced the only improved 
breeding animals to be found in the distriot; and 
asserts that at this moment he does not know, be- 
twixt Perth and Dundee, of a bull to be commend- 
ed for breeding purposes. We shall by-and-by see 
that the management of stock forms an important 
element, if not the important element in high farm- 

It mast, however, be understood that in Scotland 
alone there are two paper wars now raging in agri- 
culture — the one being the high farming contro- 
versy proper, and the other the Carse controversy, 
namely, Lord Kinnaird's. Both are essentially 
questions of profit; but must, nevertheless, not be 
confounded. The high farming question, originat- 
ing with Mr. Caird, is the more sweeping and com- 
prehensive. The Carse dispute is limited, chiefly 
to considerations affecting olay lands and naked 
fallows; and if not altogether local, is at all events 
peculiar to Carse lands, the Northumbrian clays, 
and oorn districts, such as Easter Ross. As for the 
Gladstone disputation, originating at the Fetter- 
cairn Farmers' Club, as it has a complexion so com- 
pletely political, and has yet scarcely emerged be- 
yond the columns of the newspapers, we pray leave 
to forbear it, seeing we have quite enough in hand 
ere we dispose of the practical difficulties of the 
other two. Even in England, without adverting 
to the discussions which have occurred in the jour- 
nals since the first appearance of Mr. Caird 's pam- 
phlet, Mr. Mechi, who, by the way, is the person 
to whom we should rather ascribe the illustration 
of high farming, has been made the butt for all the 
random shafts of criticising and inquiring agricul- 
turists. It is not, indeed, the first time Mr. Caird 
has appeared in print on agricultural questions, 
chiefly, however, as the reporter of the proceedings 
of others; for it is whispered that his own farming 
practice at Baldour, and his experience as factor 
over some landed estates, have hardly been marked 
by those characteristics of success he has so ably 
described in the case of Mr. M'Culloch's farm, 
at Aachness. Mr. Mechi, on the other hand, 
although what is termed in the Carse con- 
troversy a man-of-business farmer, being the 
identical gentleman whose magic paste and toi- 
let eleganoies are so well known in Leadenhall 
Street — Mr. Mechi has only chronicled his own ex- 
perience. Eight years ago, Mr. Mechi came down 
to Essex from his counting-house in London, and in- 
vested in a cold clay farm of 130 acres some of the 
handsome profits he had realised in magic paste. Ho 
astonished the Essex men at once and for ever by 
his operations on Tiptree Farm: he levelled the 
hedgerows, rooted up the trees, filled in the ditches, 
built nine-inoh walls for enclosure, and at Tiptree 
Hall erected a magnificent steading of slated roofs 
(a slated roof is a novelty on the Essex clay), and, 
if we mistake not, an India-rubber liquid manure 
tank. In short, on 190 acres of his own, and 40 
acres of hired land, Mr. Mechi had, four years ago, 
by his own showing, expended £13,500 in improve- 
ments. Four years ago, we recollect very well, a 
distinguished agricultural friend of our own visited 
the Men* of Mr. Mechi's operations, in. consequence 

of our having pat into his hands that gentleman's 
thin quarto of agricultural letters, addressed by him 
from time to time to the newspapers, and forming 
the records of his experience. The Scotch agricul- 
turist alluded to, expressed himself extremely dis- 
appointed at the state of the Essex farm, and cen- 
sured extremely the existence of open drains, a thing 
even then to be met with in no improved part of 
Scotland. We could hardly understand this at the 
time, and scarcely even yetj for Mr. Moohi's de- 
cided forte is drainage. But that his proceedings 
are open to controversy on the part of agricultural 
inquirers from Scotland more especially, we shall 
quote the words of one of the most intelligent Kin- 
cardineshire farmers, about a" month ago, to 

" Having spent a few weeks in London," says this gentleman, in 
the course of some correspondence, " I took occasion to visit Mr. 
Mechi' • far-famed farm of Tiptree Hall. My name being known to 
Mr. H., I was most coidially received by him, and had a stout day's 
conversation and argumentation with him. He is a most ener- 
getic and intelligent man, and no one can be long in his company 
without being bcne&tted by his experimental knowledge and 
shrewd remarks. Although I conceive, at least fear, that some 
of his views are erroneous, still the agricultural interest generally 
is deeply indebted to him for the great effort he has made to 
establish certain important points connected with the subject he 
has so much at heart ; and it is to be hoped that he will still per- 
severe in his experiments, until the truth and fact of his theories 
can be demonstrated to our satisfaction." 

The English agriculturists have treated Mr. Me- 
chi much worse than the Scotch. The latter have 
only doubted, while the former have disputed, his 
views as a farmer. And Mr. Hodgson, a Cum- 
berland farmer, of Low Walton, near Whitehaven, 
lately challenged Mr. echi to show his Swedes 
and his farm against the average fanning of the 
North, for a cool hundred. Mr. Mechi prudently 
declined the competition, on the ground that the 
Cnmberland Cartel had been penned from the Red 
Lion Inn on market day. But ere long, tho cham- 
pion of high farming, and, as wo consider, its ac- 
tual originator, was fairly caught in attendance on 
a public dinner of the " Witham Labourer's Friend 
and Agricultural Society," near Chelmsford. 

The essence of high farming, as we have already 
hinted, is the application of the green crops and 
straw of the farm to the fattening of stock; the 
theory of manure being thus fully developed, and 
a constant circulation of the agricultural produce 
maintained, until production is pushed to its limits 
by having attained the greatest possible quantities 
of farm manure, along with the greatest possible 
crops from its application to the soil. Bat the 
general theory of high farming, as will be seen, dis- 
dains not to enlist in the service of the field every 
accessory known in science or meohayes. An 
eminent Essex farmer, Mr. William Hutley, is se- 
cretary of the Witham Society ; and, as if to draw 
out Mr. Mechi, ho submitted to the meeting the 
notes of an experiment with farm-yard and artificial 
manures. In a field of strong clay land (clover 
ley) he found that a certain portion, manured with 
rape-cake and guano, at the rate of £3 per acre, 
produced at the rate of 2 J bushels per acre, be- 
sides, as he thinks, half-a-load of straw, more than 
a certain portion manured with form-yard dung, 
25 loads, containing 94 bushels each, per acre. 



Lord Rayleigh, th* president, having pronounced 
this, w far m it want, a conclusive reason for 
giving up fatting cattle, and for baying artificial 
manure*, for Mr. HaU*y calculated a gain of 30a. 
an acre on the artificials, np got Mr. Mechi, and 
•tood to hit principle*. He defended nil drainage; 
he told them that it was a bad thing, in regard 
to agriculture, to as same they were too perfect 
They could not go into any part of the kingdom 
without travelling down green lanes, with great 
fences, ten, or fifteen, or twenty feet broad ; they 
could not help seeing that the land was not half 
cultivated, the ditches blocked up, the buildings 
tumbling down, the manure washed away. Want of 
capital, want of 'skill, and want of security, were 
the causes of this in some eases; but he trusted to 
the force of discussion and of public opinion to take 
away that fatal feeling in agriculture. They met 
with a man who was farming in the worst possible 
way; and if spoken to on the subject, he would say, 
"la bad fanner! My father farmed in the same 
way, and I shall keep on with it." He therefore 
blamed this Mr. Hutiey, and what he called the 
" go-a-bead farmers," who spent a great deal in 
artificial manures, when they patted the bad far 
mers on the back. But when Mr. Hutley advised 
them to use guano and rape-oake, he said, let them 
be careful how tbey dispensed with farm-yard 
manure, because Mr. Nesbet (a gentleman who 
keeps a well-known agricultural school) would tell 
them that rape-cake and guano did not contain all 
that farm-yard manure contained, for tie best 
farm-yard manure contained everything that every 
plant could require; therefore, let them be careful 
how they parted with it. He admitted that the 
fatting of animals was very ruinous, and, perhaps, 
at times, it would be advisable to avail themselves 
of these artificial manures instead; and as no farmer 
could make more manure than was sufficient for 
three-fourths of his farm, be ought to use artificial 
manures, but they ought not to neglect their farm- 
yard manure. The«o remarks, which fell in substance 
from Mr. Mechi on the occasion referred to, will af- 
ford a correot notion of his views as a high-farmer; 
and who will venture to say they are not shrewd and 
sensible views as need be ? Yet, in coming to the 
question of results, we observe that although this 
enterprising apostle of improvement proclaims him- 
self satisfied with his present year's crops, satisfied 
with his whole expenditure, in faot (and, as he says 
himself, he is as close an accountant as any man); 
still, his brother farmers are not satisfied to follow 
his example. They allege that Mr. Mechi, having 
three and a half or four quarters of wheat (Mr. 
Mechi himself says five) per acre, cannot oover the 
interest of £13,500 expended on his farm; and a 
perfect storm of clamour was raised at the very 
meeting referred to for Mr. Mecbi's accounts. 
Mr. Mechi, as we understand, has declined to fur- 
nish accounts, because his trust it in the future; he 
looks forward to a time when his improvements will 
begin to be remunerative, and denies the fairness 
of instant investigation. Probably Mr. Mechi, dis- 
posed as we have seen him to embrace every avail- 
able aid on agriculture, is too much wedded to a 
particular and costly branch of improvement) — 

wa allude to drainage— and hsnee becomes i 
able to the complaint uttered by Mr. Nesbet, the 
scientific gentleman already referred to, that Mr. 
Mechi, Mr. Hewitt Davis, and Mr. Huxtable same 
forward to the world as great teachers, but, like all 
great enthusiasts, failed, because Mr. Hewitt Davis, 
took up their sowing, Mr. Mechi deep draining 
and Mr. Huxtable something else (stimulating, we 
think), and though they had every kind of soil, and 
every kind of height and level, they found these 
gentlemen taking up systems which were to be in- 
fallibly followed ; while nature was continually 
varying, and therefore it was Impossible for them 
to be right That drainage alone has not accom- 
plished its prediction, whatever facilities it may 
afford for manipulating the land, and carrying oat 
the application of improved tillage, the experience 
of a Carse fanner, lately published in one of the 
agricultural journals, seems conclusively to show. 
He found that after the first year his yield of whnat, 
on thoroughly drained eerie lands, instead of in- 
creasing as the soil got finer with the manipula- 
tion, fluctuated indeed, but on the whole rather fell 
off; and it may be even so on dry fields ; for few 
farmers keep the aoourate register of results main- 
tained by the gentleman who made this startling 
discovery— Mr. George Bell, of South Inchmiehael. 

Whilst the origin and progress of high farming in 
England have been very much discussed, as we have 
stated, it must not be imagined that there was no- 
thing of the kind in Scotland prior to the advent of 
Mr. Caird. Something of the state of agricultural 
knowledge in Sootland may be seen in a brief 
sketch of the career of Professor Johnston, to whom 
our Scottish agriculture is so deeply indebted for 
the manifestation of that burning seal which 
prompted all the distinctive inquiries of later years, 
and the provision of that abundance of information 
and instruction which we possess in his " Lec- 
tures," his " Elements of Agricultural Chemistry," 
his " Catechism," his " Contributions to Agricul- 
tural Science," and his recent oriticism on " Agri- 
cultural Experiment" — works, some of which are 
circulated by tens of thousands, as class-books, in 
the schools of America, whilst on the European 
continent, as far north as Stockholm, they 
have been translated into the prevailing 
languages. James F. W. Johnston, reader of 
mineralogy in the University of Durham, is, wo 
believe, a native of Paisley; he was, however, edu- 
cated at Kilmarnock, and is best remembered in 
that town, where he spent hit early days. Like 
Dr. Lyon Playfair, Dr. Lindley, Dr. R. D. Thom- 
son, and other eminent agricultural chemists, he 
completed his studies at Gieisen, in the laboratory 
of the Illustrious Llebig; and there hare not been 
wanting, amongst our educated Scotch farmers, ' 
some whose familiarity with the German language 
has led them to assert that, ere the works of Dr. 
Justus Liebig were so well known in this country, 
through the medium of translations, Johnston crop- 
ped from that foreign field the rich harvest of his 
early renown. It is, however, certain that what* 
ever impression the views of Liebig may have made 
on the mind of Professor Johnston, at the time 



cultural Chemistry and Geology" went issued, he 
latterly, when habituated to the practice of original 
research in his own library, was rather distin- 
guished by the boast of Horace — 

"Kullio* adVliotas in verbo mtgistri jurats ;" 

and, as we understand, is now decidedly at vari- 
ance with Liebig himself on many important points 
in chemical soience. It was at the period of tbe 
meeting of the Britiah Association in Glasgow that 
the views of Professor Johnston attracted the notice 
of Mr. Fleming, of Barroohan, Mr. W. M. Alex- 
ander, now of Ballochmyle, Sir William Milliken 
Napier, Baronet, and some of the Renfrewshire 
country gentlemen. At their instanoe, Professor 
Johnston lectured to the farmers in Paisley, and 
subsequently repeated his addresses in various parts 
of Scotland, opening the eyes of the agriculturists 
to the facts of science, and appealing to the possible 
increase of profits, against their hereditary preju- 
dices. He showed them that the prevalent horror 
against chemical farming had arisen in the infancy 
of the science of agricultural chemistry, ere yet 
any code of economics had been practically com- 
bined with it : that the singular fatalities witb 
which the attempts of chemical farmers had been 
attended were less the fanlt of science than of its 
practical application: and that farmers had only to 
keep in view the combination of science with profit 
to practice any experiment they pleased. The 
result was that gentlemen on their own estates, and 
not a few of the more enterprising agriculturists, did 
begin to rite above the prejudice, that to employ 
chemistry in agriculture was a vain and frivolous ( 
departure from professional propriety. Guano was 
tried. The results were astounding. Mr. Fleming, 
of Barrochan, ever foremost in testing and establish- 
ing advanced principles of cultivation, published to 
the world such tables of results, from the use of this 
stimulant, as never before were known to proceed 
from the exhausted tilths of the old world, and looked 
more like the returns from the virgin soil of the 
new. These tables showed, conclusively, that, by 
the skilful application of manures, £30 per acre 
might be obtained on an outlay of £20; £20 on an 
outlay of £14; and £14 on an outlay of £11. Pro- 
fessor Johnston went on to state to the farmers on 
every public occasion, how beautiful was that eco- 
nomy of nature which, in the distribution of the 
component gases of the atmosphere, renders the 
carbonic acid exhaled from the lungs of the animal, 
essential to the nourishment of the plant .' — how the 
constituents of the plant and the constituents of the 
earth, the air, and all the varieties of manure, de- 
termined precisely the course of cultivation, so that 
nothing need be wasted in the management of the 
farm, and, instead of the tendency of ehemlcal prin- 
ciples being towards loss, they must inevitably be 
towards gain! More especially was this rendered 
visible when, in his usual fluent and perspicuous 
style of elucidation, he went on to show that the 
gluten of the plant and the fibrin of tbe animal, as 
well as other corresponding principles, being ana- 
logous, if not identical, the parti of the animal were 
regularly built up and replaced by the food em- 
ployed; so that it was a matter of precise calcula- 

tion whether the food given to animals was calcu- 
lated or not to fatten, strengthen, and sustain them. 
At length, in 1843, through the indefatigable exer- 
tions of Mr. Flnnie, of Swanston, Lord Dunfermline, 
and others, the Agricultural Chemistry Association 
of Scotland was formed, and Professor Johnston 
placed at its head as chemical officer. It ultimately 
numbered 1,200 members; and in the course of the 
five or six years of its existence, the chemist had 
performed fully 2,000 analyses, and issued more than 
3,000 letters of advice, besides delivering through- 
out Scotland 100 lectures. There oan be no doubt 
that this institution was of much greater benefit to 
Scotland than the obscure chemical department of 
the Highland and Agricultural Society, now so little 
beard of, is ever likely to accomplish. By the Agri- 
cultural Chemistry Association, the character of 
Scottish agriculture was highly raised throughout the 
world, the best proof of which is, that in the north 
and south of Ireland, in America, Holland, and other 
countries, associations were formed professedly upon 
its model, and conducted after its regulations. And 
yet, at the close of Professor Johnston's period of 
engagement, about twelve months ago, it was 
suffered to go down, almost without an effort to re- 
tain it. 

It was after this valuable institution had perish- 
ed, and farming in Scotland, under the auspices of 
the Highland and Agricultural Society, which, to 
complete the heavy blow and great discouragement 
thus imparted to it as a science, had resolved on 
losing a thousand pounds only triennially, instead 
of every year at the "general show," was fast 
rein psing into its primitive condition of blind pre- 
judice and uninformed aims, that the celebrated 
pamphlet of Mr. Caird, of Baldour, relative to 
high farming, and its results at Auchness, shot like 
a meteor across the troubled sky. 

The farm of Auchness is situated in Wigton- 
shire, on the shores of the Bay of Luce, within a 
few miles of the southernmost point of Scotland, in 
a warm south-eastern exposure, and at an elevation 
of not more than from 10 to 70 feet above the sea 
level. The extent is not great— only 260 acres 
arable : 30 of these are reclaimed moss ; 40 
black moorish soil, intermixed with white sand ; 
12S, light sandy soil, better for wheat than for 
barley and oats ; and 65, superior red turnip soil. 
The leading principle of " high farming," as here 
laid down, is, a greater reliance on green crops, 
grass, and forage, than on corn — not, however, to 
the exclusion of the latter ; and it ia as well to 
state at once, that, throughout the entire pamphlet, 
the system is assumed to be hopelessly inapplicable 
to clay tillage land. The Garse controversy has 
since rendered us less sure of this. Lord ftinnaird 
is evidently not without hopes of high farming, even 
on such soils ; but more of this anon. Meanwhile, 
Auchness farm, we may add, is on the estate of 
Colonel M'Douall, of Logan ; it is well watered, 
fenced, and sheltered, intersected by a publie road, 
and situated twelve miles from the port of Stran- 
raer, but only two from Port-Logan, where produce 
can be shipped, and manure imported. Yet, 
with all these advantages, and some more ex- 
traordinary which have to be mentioned (the 
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splendid and expensive steading), it does not stand 
the tenant over and above £1 per acre of yearly 
rent ! Seldom in Scotland is so rare an opportunity 
afforded for realising farming profits; although the 
rent named is a common one for the best and most 
advantageously situated farms both in England and 

The permanent improvements on Auchness in 
elude not only draining, but subsoiling, as well as 
farm-buildings, and the reclamation of waste land. 
Half the farm roquircd, however, no drainage; the 
other half was thorough-drained, with tiles and slate 
soles — the drains at first being 2 feet 2 inches deep, 
and 16 feet apart ; but this drainage being found 
imperfect, they were increased to 3 feet, and placed 
from 21 to 24 feet apart. On the removal of the 
first crop of oats from the drained land, it was sub 
soiled to a depth of 15 inches across the line of the 
drains, ameliorated during the winter by exposure 
to the weather, and limed, before turnip sowing, with 
80 bushels per acre. 

The magnificent farm buildings, the admirable 
plan of which is worth the whole cost of the pam 
phlet, afford under one roof accommodation for al- 
most the entire stock of the farm ! Feeding byres 
_ for eighty cattle, with front passages for feeding, 
and rear passages for cleansing, occupy the princi- 
pal ranges. The cattle are arranged in two rows, 
separated by a wall, either half being capable of 
isolation in case of necessity. The barn, threshing, 
house, turnip-house, granary, and store for cut or 
bruised grain (used in feeding) are relatively so die 
posed that a lying shaft extending from the mill- 
wheel drives also the grain-bruisers and turnip-eut- 
ters. The dung-house, forty-nine feet by thirty- 
three, is covered over. The tank, thirty-one feet 
long, ten feet wide, and four deep, capable of con- 
taining 7,724 gallons of liquid manure, is arched 
over. Besides the priacipal range, suites of farm 
and riding stables, cow-byre, pig-house, poultry- 
house, and other offices, surround the paved stable- 
court, kitchen-court, &c. The farm buildings are 
ventilated with great care. Each window is hung 
on a pivot, and tile-holes are introduced a little 
above the ground behind, and at a level, in front of 
the cattle, in connection with air-pipes through 
the roof. 

A portion of moss land is reclaimed each year. 
To the acre of reclaimed land three hundred loads 
of sand and gravel are applied. The expense is 
£10 an aero ; but, owing to tho' fortunate circum- 
stance of the potato crops raised on the reclaimed 
land being free from disease in seasons when sound 
potatoes have been scarce, this has been fairly 

In the ordinary management of this farm, the 
covered dung-house being at a lower level than the 
byres, the dung can be wheeled in successive layers 
over the heap ; and the urine, as it comes from the 
byres, can be conveyed in wooden gutters over the 
top of the dung, whilst whatever liquid finds its way 
to the bottom is caught by the tank. 

Besides the farm dung, five hundred loads of sea- 
ware and two thousand loads of peat-moss (exposed 
for a year to the atmosphere) — and no trifling ad- 
vantages are these — are annually carted oat to the 

fields, and mixed in alternate layers with the dang. 
If anybody supposes high farming a sort of child's 
play, he will thus see that he is egregiously mista- 
ken. Altogether, five thousand loads of manure, 
exclusive of artificials, are given to the green crops.' 
It is frankly acknowledged that the main source of 
increased productiveness on the farm is the extra- 
ordinary quantity of manure applied to these crops, 
and all the work, apparently, of ten horses, which, 
consequently, are not idle ! 

No fixed rotation of cropping is observed. Such 
is not compatible with the genius of high farming. 
The last cropping comprised, for instance, fifty-fiTe 
acres Italian rye-grass, clover, and pasture ; thirty 
of oats, and twenty-five of potatoes after clover &c - 
fifty-five of turnips ; fifty -five of wheat, and 'from 
thirty to forty, being the reclaimed moss, in pota- 
toes. A large proportion in potatoes ! but " there 's 
the rub"— these potatoes were the money-making 
portion at the moment, and it is " high farming-" to 
push for profits. 

Italian rye-grass, sown in April, is cat four times 
in the course of the season. But how is it got to 
grow? Those to whom the Belgian husbandry of 
green cropping, stall feeding, and liquid manuring 
is a mystery will not readily surmise. But the 
urine pumped from the spacious tank is diluted in 
an equal quantity of water, and applied daily to 
each morning's cutting from a broad-wheeled cart. 
Yet some farmers are so absurd as to hold it for an 
established fact, that all the benefits of liquid ma- 
nuring will not repay the trouble and expense of 
carting it. They may learn from Mr. M'Culloch's 
industrious, minute, and special application, and 
his four crops a-year, that "where there is a will 
there is a way." Eighteen acres, treated in 
this way, in fact, yield food from 10th May till 
17th August for seventy two-year-old cattle, and 
ten work horses ; only the latter cannot do without 
their oats and straw, of which also they have a full 
allowance. Further, the same eighteen acres soil 
and satisfy sixty cattle and the ten work horses up 
till 14th October, by the aid of an acre and a half 
of turnips and 280 bushels bean meal, boiled, with 
chaff. In other words, nineteen and a half acres 
yield five months' sustenance to sixty-seven oattle, 
on the average, besides ten work horses. 

Bones and guano are applied in the culture of 
the turnips, which are carefully manipulated, about 
a tenth of the crop being of the early white and 
yellow kinds ; the rest Swedes. Wheat is taken 

Of cattle, 130 are sold fat off the farm every 
year, and the same number of young purchased to 
replace them. They get turnips and straw till the 
grass is ready, are then turned out to summer 
grazing, and tied up again in the beginning of Oc- 
tober for winter feeding. Others are soiled all 
summer, on cut grass, clover, and early turnips, ia 
the stalls, with a feed of boiled chaff occasionally. 
When all tied up for winter feeding, the stock are 
fed twice a-day on cut Swedish turnips, at the rate 
of 150 pounds a-day each, administered in equal 
doses of seventy-five pounds, with a supply of boiled 
food (an admixture of oats, bean, or linseed meal, 
and cut straw) in the middle of the day. The cattle 

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are kept very clean, brushed down with a whale- 
bone brush, called a dandy, daily ; get plenty of time 
to rest, and, as will bo seen, are not annoyed by 
frequent visits from the feeder. 

These am the whole details of the. practical ma' 
nagement so much talked of and commended at 
Ancbness; and are given to supply the reader with 
a lively picture of the bustling and active life of the 
high farmer. Mr. Caird has been blamed — more 
especially by an anonymous writer, designating 
himself "A Perthshire Farmer" — for contrasting 
the results of this incessant and laborious exertion 
' of the present tenant of Auchness with those of the 
old-world system previously pursued upon the farm 
Adopting this mode of comparison, however, he has 
attempted to show that whilst Mr. M'Culloch pays 
a rent of £110 above the former tenant of Auch- 
ness, and expends three times the sum formerly 
spent on the farm in labour, equivalent to the com- 
fortable subsistence of some ten families, at the ordi- 
nary wages of married ploughmen in this country, 
besides laying out £526 more in manures and cattle 
food, or, in all, effecting a total increase of expendi 
ture of £910 10s.- 8d. — equal to nearly 70s. an acre ; 
he realises £2,618 for the former tenant's £649, be- 
ipg an increase of £1,876. Now the "Perthshire 
Farmer" has a different way of computing all this. 
He thinks that we have nothing to do with the 
former tenant, and is for comparing the results with 
their own expenditure ; and he thinks there are a 
few items of expenditure to be added to those spe- 
cified by Mr. Caird— seed, for instance (a strange 
omission, for seed is not to be had scot free), £594 
10s. ; keep of horses, £300 ; their tear and wear, 
£47 ; tradesmen's accounts, £42 10s. ; tear and 
wear 'of implements, £49; travelling and market 
expenses, £60 10s. ; cattle insurance, £88 ; interest 
on capital, £150 — not one of which can we affect 
to say might not be chargeable in a fair balance- 
sheet. The result, instead of £1,876 of an increase, 
appears to be £17 18s. 8d. of a loss ! 

Mr. Caird's more formidable, because more calm 
and resolute, opponent, coming forward not to grap- 
ple with high farming as a system (though practi- 
cally condemning the risk incurred in raising so 
largely of potatoes), but pitting against the humbler 
pretensions of common corn-farming in Scotland, 
is Mr. Munro, of Allan, near Tain. Pursuant to 
our purpose of avoiding the politics of this question, 
we shall attend only to the agricultural criticism 
emanating from this source. Mr. Munro thinks that 
the secret of Mr. M'Culloch's high and most re- 
munerative farming lies in growing most extensively 
tiie most uncertain root known, under a system quite 
opposed to the acknowledged (pies of good farming, 
by which the same plant or grain should be as sel- 
dom as possible repeated on the same land. Sixty- 
aVe acres of potatoes upon a 260-acre farm, and 40 
i of which to be perpetually growing them, ap- 

pears to him to be one of the most extraordinary 
propositions ever made to the agriculturists of Bri- 
tain ; and he denounces the scheme as a most un- 
fair means of attempting to show a large return 
from a farm. With more reason, Mr. Munro op- 
poses the results of corn-farming to this high farm- 
ing, against which he thus rails, for making the 
most of itself. For if high farming be inapplicable 
to the corn-districts of Ross-shire, then is Mr, Munro 
left in the lurch. His calculations, founded on twen- 
ty-six years' experience, show, left to pay the rent 
and provide the farmer's profit on a farm of 464 
acres, only £798 9s. lid. ; and deducting - 30s. an 
acre, or £699,us rent, there would remain but 4s. 4d. 
per acre, or £102 in all, as farmer's profit. Indeed, 
he asserts that the state of the markets since his 
calculation was made has converted even this ba- 
lance to a deficit of £32 15s. Id.! 

Having- brought forward these examples of 
agricultural controversy in reference to the leading 
topic of high farming, it may probably suffice to 
say that the Carse of Oowrie branch of the con- 
flict, already sufficiently noticed, is by no means 
mature, as the farmers are writing second answers 
for Lord Kinnaird to revise. His lordship will 
no doubt dispose of many of the points at issue 
summarily enough; but, on the whole, the literary 
activity now astir among our farmers must even tuate 
in good. The cultivation of the country stands none 
the worse chance of being improved for .having 
especial attention directed to it, and a searohing 
investigation instituted into its results, in all their 
possibly aspects. Abroad, as well as at home, the 
same questions are beginning to be asked respect- 
ing the profits of farming ; and to have hesitated 
in such an inquiry would, at this moment, have 
thrown this country arrear in the general 
race of prqductive emulation than any other cir- 
cumstance that could be named. By a strange 
coincidence, it was only the other day that a paper, 
called The American Cultivator, Ml into our hands, 
in which the question of farming profits is directly 
raised ; and a writer, controverting the positions of 
some previous correspondent, shows that the aver- 
age net profit of the whole of 64/363 acres of wheat, 
barley, oats, and Indian corn, in Seneca County, 
U.S., was nine dollars per acre, or eighteen per 
cent, net profit on capital — whilst the manufac- 
turers of New England, believed to be as prosperous 
as any in the world,- have not for the. lost ten years 
netted seven per cent, per annum on their capital. 
Amongst the profits of the Lakeland Farm of Mr. 
Foster, in Seneca County, fifty-five acres of wheat 
land ore estimated to have produced twenty-eight 
per cent, on the value of the land (for the farm- 
ers there are their own landlords). On these 
grounds, the American upholds the. business of 
farming as the most profitable and prosperous, in 

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Ijr the dusk of the evening, and amid the blast of a 
severe storm, a horseman entered the long, straggling 
street of Great Varadein, in Hungary. Like most of 
the vast assemblages of huts, dignified with the name 
of towns, the Great Yarodein was simply a huge Til- 
lage of half tents, half huts, where the Magyar pea- 
santry vegetated, with their pigs and horses, after a 
fashion semi-Irish, semi-Bedouin — serf, or slave ; to 
Speak plainly, the Hungarian peasantry of those days 
endured all the miseries of poverty and degradation 
attached to their position— which, however, was no 
worse than that of the millions everywhere — where 
chivalry and feudalism held glorious revel. To work 
and sleep was about the extent of their enjoyment ; and 
though it was not late in the evening, yet all had re- 
tired to their houses, and not even a dog looked out 
to examine what the stranger wanted. 

And yet it was in the good old times, in the very 
old times, when St. Ladisks was King of Hungary, 
md when the Kumanes were in rebellion against their 
sovereign lord and master. 

But oommunications were not rapid in those days, 
and the inhabitants of Varadein were not aware that 
at that very moment a motley host of rebels were 
encamped in their neighbourhood. 

The cavalier, as far as could have been judged by 
the pale moonlight, was young and handsome, while a 
rich costume, a rude counterpart of that of the modern 
hussar, was only half-hidden by a travelling cloak. 

After riding some distance into the crowd of huts, 
the traveller approached a spot where some houses of 
better aspect spoke of wealth and power. There was 
the church, the bishop's palace, the palace of the vay- 
vbde, and various dwellings belonging to the nobles 
who owned the surrounding soil — the magnate of the 
locality alone boasting a baronial castle. 

The cavalier turned down a narrow lane, or pathway, 
which led along the vast garden of the episcopal pa- 
lace. Having readied the end of it, he tied his horse 
to a tree, and then, standing on the animal's back, 
gained the wall. 

To leap into the garden was then the work of an in- 

The garden Was large, and the wall of upright 
wooden Beams stuck in the ground and dovetailed to- 
gether, so as to form, as it were, a palisado. 

The young man seemed to know the ground well, 
for he took an alley that led towards the palace, and 
stood, in a few minutes, under its walls. 

He was expected. Scarcely had his foot touched 
the sloping surface of rock and bush, that led to the 
foot of a tower, forming the corner of the palace, than 
a whispered voice was heard. 


"Klara!" he replied. 

A young girl, with long dark hair, long eyelashes, 
and a complexion of the purest white, stood at a narrow 
loophole, through which her face could only be distin- 
guished by the light of a lamp which she had placed 
near it. 

They could not reach each other even by the tips 
of their fingers ; and yet it was to pass an hour in low- 
whispered talk with her that Karolus, or Charles Kuna- 
bor, rode miles several times a-week. 

But this time it was not to talk of love, but of war. 
A province was in rebellion. The Kumanes had shaken 
off the royal allegiance ; and St. Ladislas himself vraa 
about to march against them, and his favourite pfO, 
Karolus Kumbor, must needs follow. 

It would be unnecessary to relate the conversation 
which ensued. Klara was all tenderness and gentle- 
ness, begging the youth to be careful of his life, but to 
be valiant as became a true Hungarian. Though it 
was the bishops daughter who spoke— for in those 
days the bishops married in Hungary without scandal- 
ising the faithful — she had all the fiery energy of her 
martial land. Karolus made all the usual promises 
which affection prompts; and then, after bidding each 
other adieu, a little more melancholy than usual, the 
lovers parted. 

Kumbor easily found his way back, sad gained the 
summit of the palisado without difficulty. He even 
leaped down upon the muddy swamp outside j bat, 
this done, was astonished to find his favourite 2ug— 
so called after his master's horse— no longer attached 
to the tree where he had left him. Boiling with in- 
dignation, the young noble turned round in sear oh of 
him. He was quiet ly awaiting him, attached to a larch 
at some distance from the wall. 

Karolus, considerably puzzled at this event, walked 
quiokly across the meadow, and then saw a tall Hun- 
garian, standing with his baok against the tree to 
which the horse was attached. 

" Slave I" cried the hotheaded youth, " how darest 
thou lay thy hand upon my horse f " 

" It was too near the bishop's palace for the honour 
of his daughter," said the Hungarian, coldly. 

Karolus looked at the other with a fierce and terri- 
ble expression. The Magyar peasant stepped baok, 
and unloosed his long hunting-knife. But the page 
seemed to recollect himself. 

"Puzcot" said he, reoognising the best danetr in 
Varadein, and the most active in all the varied games 
of the day, a tall, handsome, but rather sullen youth, 
who was said to be far too independent for a serf. 

" Pueoo," replied the other, in a husky voice. 

Karolus burst into a hearty and uncontrollable fit of 
laughter. An idea seemed to strike hint so riehly 
comic, that he could not credit its existence. It struck 
him that Puzoo was in love with the bishop's daughter. 
Puzoo, a serf, a shepherd, an animal belonging to the 
soil. There was a time— and in some ill-organised sad 
silly heads such ideas still ferment— when the rich 
and noble, that is, the fortunate, the lucky, or the 
strongest, or the most successful, looked upon the poor 
as another race ; when a noble lady would admit her 
porter or her lacquey into her bedroom while- dressing, 
under the impression that that was not a man ; when, 
in fact, the aristocracy looked upon the people as not 
only hewers of. wood and drawers of water; hut si 
Digitized by LjOOg IC 



cattle. No wonder if these looked on them as their 
executioner*, or their natural enemies, and have repaid 
them, whenever they have had an opportunity, their 
blasphemous and pagan appreciation of God's children. 
And yet Bueh people have, with such ideas, dared to 
call themselves Christians, without one element of 
Christian belief in their souls. 

Karolus, the page, a true noble of his day, oould not 
restrain his hilarity. It was too much for him. 

The peasant stood, uncertain how to act, but almost 
annihilated with a sense pf his own debasement as he 
heard the other laugh. He eomprehended him ; and 
wild was the storm that raged iu the breast of the serf 
as he asked himself why he, young, handsome, with 
•very faculty as fit for action and renown as the other, 
should not look with an eye of affection on the bishop's 
daughter. He asked himself why a minister of the 
God of Christianity must needs have one of the rich 
and powerful of the land for a son-in-law, and scorn 
him, the poor peasant Instinct told the white slave 
that, despite all the sophistry of the world, the holy 
bishop could not be a Christian when he condemned 
and despised the poor, for whose consolation Christ 
came upon earth. 

" My lord laughs," said Puzco, bitterly, " but may 
not the peasant and the noble both admire the sun P 
Does not the blue water of the Szamo wash both the 
black stones and the shining gold from the mountains?" 

"True, Puzoo; but you dout seriously enter the 
field as my rival ?" asked the young lord, perfectly an- 
nihilated with surprise. 

"Your rival, lord and master!" said Puzco, bitterly; 
" are yon not rich, and I poor ? Am I not a serf, and 
you a noble f Am I not as the beast of burden in the 
fields, and you as the falcon ? Co I not wear a bunda 
of sheepskins, and a black iuwy, and have yon not 
brave armour, and shining gold upon your pelisse ? I 
am a man, and thou art a man. I am God's ereature, 
and thou art God's ereature ; but I shall stand equal 
with thee only before God." 

And Puzco bounded into the thicket, and disap- 

At all times, and in all lands where the Christian 
religion has been accepted and taught, there have been 
those who have understood it as something better than 
a theory. They have sought to pit its tenets into 
practise, the very first of which should be, that there 
ems be no men distinction between men upon earth 
than there will be in Heaven. Any person who believes 
that there are two noes of men— one bom to enjoy, the 
ether to softer ; the eon noble, the other servile — is 
simply not a Christian in any sense of the word. Long 
before the earliest reformers of note, there were priests 
who looked at Christianity iu a less narrow point of 
view than did the rich divines whose province it was 
to administer to-the vanity and insolence of nobles and 
princes, by hiding from them the mot, that assuming 
Me name of believers and folio vera of Christ is not 
being so; and that pride, and insolence, sad tyranny, 
aud pillage, and oppression, aad debfUMhery, and sedac- 
tjoa, sad worse, an not Christian virtues ; and yet, 
such is the stolid ignorance of mankind, that the 
enthojn of each deeds -were allowed, and still an al- 
lowodt to be Christians j a Christian without real hu- 
mility, which consists in placing one's self not above, 

iMilel^ ^fcsw'wWnvt 4s(|DBfl0k!nMkwi NsV flsJnT ^ffM wj^Ofc 

One of these early heralds of reformation— and much 
as belief has been reformed, practice has as much need 
of reformation as ever — had formed the mind of Puzco, 
which stood out in a marked manner from that of his 
fellow serfs. But the priest was dead, and Puzoo had 
retained but coarse notions of the ideas implanted in him 
by Father John. He knew, however, one thing — that 
accident alone made Karolus any way his superior. 

The page, far more amused than irritated at the idea 
of having a rival who could never afflict him with any 
fear, even of the most vague character, pursued his 
way,' musing as he went, towards the camp of King 
St. Ladislas, not forgetting, however, to make inquir- 
ies relative to the position of the Kumaues, in search of 
whom he had been despatched by his master. 

But he arrived exhausted with fatigue at the camp 
of the King, who had long been in bed, and without 
disturbing the monarch's rest. He had learned nothing 
by his journey, absolutely nothing, except that a pea* 
sent had a soul, and eyes, aud wishes, aud even a heart 
for love, which in those days was, iu reality, a discovery. 
When about midday he rode forth, in all his gorgeous 
finery, to attend on St. Ladislas, be had forgotten even 
this, for the brilliant cavalcade of knights, and their 
more humble footmen, were about to march against 
the rebel horde, which had been denounced as having 
attacked Varadein. The King rode his favourite Zug, 
so famous in Hungarian legend ; and the oohort around 
him was all that the most warlike heart oould hav» 
desired. Oil they sped, eager to meet the foe, send* 
kg scouts out every now and then in search of any 
signs of the enemy. 

They found none for some time. At last, however, 
after some hours' march, a horseman came with the in- 
telligence that the Kumanes had assaulted and leaven 
Great Varadein, and were engaged in pillaging and 
devastating the place. 

"Sire," cried Karolus, addressing the monareh, 
" will you allow your faithful page to hurry on? His 
affianced bride is in Varadein, and he tears the ferocity 
of the rebels." 

"Take a fitting escort, handsome page," said St. 
Ladislas, with a smile, and " haste on. Thy master will 
not be long behind. ' ' 

Karolus Kumbor needed not twice tolling, and in 
balf-aa-hour he was in sight of the town which con- 
tained the object of a long-cherished passion— the Kim 
who had been selected as his bride when both won 
children, As usual in such eases, the mutual passion 
was not so strong as if their affection had been 
checked ; and they were forced to ereate a romaatio 
mystery where it was not required, to suit their love 
to the height of the songs and ballads of the day, which 
never ventured to suppose feelings approved of on all 
sides worthy of chronicling. But such is the inevi- 
table fate of the romanciet ; bis task is never an agroe- 
able one, for the taste of mayiti^ a not, nahappisy, 
to be pleased by ample narratives of gentle and happy 

The scouts of the rebels wen sharply on the look 
out; sad at one* warned their comrades of the coming 
of Karolus Kumbor and his band of gallant knights. 
The pillagers stopped not to contest their plunder, 
but hurried away with all they could carry, toss iafj tin 
palace of the bishop in fiames. " T . 

, k When Karolus drew rein in theawnare, hefomsitsW 



prince-priest surrounded by a crowd, who were endea- 
Touring in vain to comfort him. 
- "My child! my child !" he cried, in a tone of pas- 
sionate grief; " give me back my child." 

""Where is Klara ?" asked Karolus, without dis- 

* A hundred voices replied that the palace had been 
fired in the confusion of the attack ; and when succour 
came, a party of young Kumanes, headed by one of their 
chiefs, had rode away, the commander bearing the 
young girl on the horse beside him. 

The Page of St. Ladisks calmly took council with 
all who could inform him, despite the poignant grief 
he experienced, and then, the road taken by the ravish- 
ers being indicated, he galloped away, with but five 
followers, on the track of the Kumanes. The road they 
had taken, one rude and rugged enough, was that of 
Transylvania, and led to that country through a series 
of ravines, woody tracks, and mountain passes, which 
could easily be defended against a large force. But 
•Karolus cared not for danger. He was in the times 
of chivalry; and had the lovely girl been any other than 
his beloved, he would have been bound to do the same. 
He rode hard and fast for two hours, at the expiration 
of which time his horse began to give evident signs of 
being completely worn out; and then only he remarked, 
that such had been his precipitation that a single com- 
panion alone remained with him. At the same mo- 
ment, a peasant, driving a mule, came forth from a 
thicket, and prepared to follow the track to Varadein. 
Karolus at once questioned him, and found that, about 
an hour before, he had concealed himself to escape a 
rude band of horsemen, who bore along with them a 
girl on one of their steeds, filling the air with her 
shrieks and groans. - 

■ The young man, who knew that his horse could go 
no further, and who feared nothing save the demand 
for a rich ransom, at once dismounted, and let his good 
Zug graze alongside the steed of his friend. Then, 
having got some provisions from the peasant, they re- 
freshed themselves, and tried to snatch a few hours of 
rest. It was about midnight when tbey awoke ; and 
both at once remounted, and pursued their journey. 
Por a couple of hours they again advanced on their 
way, until they found themselves at the foot of the 
Cterhalom, or hill of oaks, and near a low chain of 
steep and rugged hills, where lay concealed a band of 
runaway and revolted serfs, who revenged their former 
slavery by pillaging and waylaying all the nobles they 
happened to meet. 

• The two young men at once perceived the light of 
a fire, amidst a grove of trees. Both dismounted, drew 
their sabres, and commenced climbing the hill. They 
observed dead silence, and were fully aware that they 
were advancing to a perilous and unequal encounter. 
But they hesitated not. Scarcely had they entered the 
grove when they heard voices. 

" 1 tell you, " cried one, "you may get ransom for 
whom you will ; I mean to have this girL She is pretty 
and tempting, and my own prize." 

"That remains to be seen, Csisco," replied another, 
" for my part I shall have my share of the gold. If 
she be the bishop's daughter, the old Pope will give a 
good ransom for her." 

" Brigand 1" thundered Karolus, "nor girl, nor 
ransom! I am here, Klara." 

And then the two men sprang upon the astounded 
half-dozen of Kumanes, laid two low by one stroke, and, 
encouraged by the sight of Klara, stretched at the foot 
of a tree, and bound with thongs, they attacked the 
others with desperate energy. Karolus and his com- 
panion were good swordsmen. They knew well the 
use of the weapons they wielded. Their adversaries, 
though less tutored, were vigorous and energetic men. 
The conflict was frightful. These six men hacked and 
hewed at each other, as they would have treated the 
trunk of an old tree. The Hungarian knights stood 
close together, and, having some defensive armour, 
had an advantage over the Kumanes. Presently, one 
of these fell. The other three pressed the Magyars 
rudely; and soon the thick respiration, the groans 
of men, the clang of swords, were alone heard. At 
the end of half-an-hour, Karolus Kumbor staggered 
against a tree, and looked around him. 

His comrade was dead, as were three of the Kumanes, 
while both he and the three others were so desperately 
wounded as to leave little prospect of their recovery. 
In fact, the young man had received so many, and such 
terrible wounds, that he felt himself dying. Klara, he 
saw, was gone, and then he fell insensible. 

Some three weeks later, though to Karolus it ap- 
peared only a few seconds, he, for the first time, opened 
his eyes with any sense of what was going on around 
him. He gazed almost vacantly on the locality he 
occupied. He was in a dark mountain cave, of small 
dimensions, but lying on a bed which was soft and 
pleasant, and which he at once felt was covered with 
fresh linen. Opposite to him was a deep cavity, that 
served as a fireplace, near which sat an old woman, 
who was, however, neither hideous nor repulsive. She 
was a decent, respectable-looking person, clean, and 
engaged in preparing some savoury mess. 

The knight, was dreadfully puzzled. He was too 
weak to speak or move, almost too weak to think, and 
he closed his eyes not to fatigue his senses. At this 
instant, the old woman moved towards him. 

"He sleeps still," she muttered. "I fear me his 
lethargy will never cease." 

" It has ceased," he said, in a low, measured, but 
clear tone. 

The old woman clasped her hands, gazed curiously 
at the sick man, and then disappeared, to return next 
instant accompanied by another person. . This was 
Klara, paler, thinner, than she was wont, and with an 
air of gravity he had never seen on her; but still Klara. 
She had in her hand a beverage that she had been 
absent preparing. 

"You must not speak, Karolus," said she, gently; 
"you must not utter one word. Be assured you are 
safe, and in generous bands. Both I and you have 
been saved by a miracle. Do not speak, Karolus. I 
will give you this drink; and then sleep again, for one 
refreshing slumber will do you more good than all your 
long lethargy." 

A look from the sick man was easfly understood by 
the young girl, and she told him how long he had been 

"But not another word — go to sleep; nowthatyou 
are free from your terrible accesses, we can move yon 
from this cave." 

We, thought the young man; who is mf But the 


draught he had .taken was a sedative, and in a few 
minutes he again slept. . 

When he once more awoke, he was in the neat, clean 
room of a mountain hut, with the view of a wood- 
grated window, and flowers, and trees. The sun was 
shining brightly, and nature seemed to smile upon him. 
•Fever and suffering were gone for the moment, but 
deep lassitude, remained. Klara soon rejoined him, 
arid the old woman brought in a breakfast that awakened 
the young man to a sense of life. He was permitted 
to eat and drink but sparingly, and was told of a long 
and weary convalescence as certain. He asked where 
he was ; but Klara bid him not speak too much, when- 
ever this question came to his lips. 
.' Some days passed, and the wounded man, whose 
arms, head, body, and even legs, had been gashed, 
could rise from his bed with assistance. But he could 
not walk, and Klara would then sit near him and talk. 
She studiously, however, avoided any topic which could 
arouse his feelings, or give him any emotion, however 
slight. Sometimes, when he dozed, she would absent 
herself, and return with a colour which spoke of along 
course in the mountains. 

At the end of two months, the page of St. Ladislas 
could just walk, and no more; but it was already clear 
that nothing would soon remain of his wounds but the 
scars, one. of which, on his forehead, by no means les- 
sened his beauty, simply because it spoke of courage 
and "bravery. 

.-. "Klara," said he to the young girl one day, in a 
grave tone, "where am I? I have been treated long 
enough as a child." 

" You are with the Free Corps, as they call themselves, 
of the Hill of k Oaks," replied Klara, with some con- 

"And they know who I am?" asked the young 
noble, hurriedly. 
"They do." 

• " And they have allowed me to be saved !" he con- 
tinued, in amazement, " and yon too ! What is the 
meaning of all this f " 

• " Their new chief, one Puzco " 

"Puzco," cried Karolus, in a perfect tempest of 

passion, that made him fall back, almost fainting, in his 

. Klara looked at him, perfectly astounded. 

"Puzco is all that is generous and good," she said, 
warmly. . " It was he released me from my bonds ; it 
was he who bore you, bleeding and insensible, to this 
hut and the cavern, where he commands a body of 
revolted peasants. I thought him audacious enough 
when first I came, for he spoke slightly of the nobles ; 
but . in two months he has convinced me that there is 
nothing noble but the heart, and that a man may be 
great and good, though born a serf. His rude, but 
eloquent language has made me see how unjust, how 
insolent, we are to men who are our equals in all but 
good luck and fortune. Oh! Karolus, if you had 
heard him every day, as I have, expounding the rights 
of the poor and the oppressed, you, too, would have 
become a rebel." 

" As you have — rebel to your race, and rebel to your 
lore — for you return the affection of this brigand." 

Klara looked at him as if she thought him mad. So 
great was the influence of prejudice and education, that 
— thougha daily witness tothe devotion, to the wrapped 


earnestness, to the eager wish to please Puzco— she 
never had supposed it possible he could raise his eyes 
to her in love. 

" The vile slave told me so himself," said Karolus, 
hotly, and in a loud voice. 

" And the brigand chief repeats it," continued Puzco, 
entering the room. " Count Karolus, you speak loudly. 
I have no reason to hide my deep, devoted, hopeless 
love. Had it any foundation in hope, I should not 
speak thus freely. I know the difference between us, 
a serf and a noble ! How could any woman, however 
good, hesitate between us P The serf has his honest 
heart and his love — no more; the noble — hear, I avow it 
— has, too, his honest heart and his love ; but he has 
rank, and wealth, and power, and blood. Count Karolus, 
I did not save you to rob ypu of your bride. I saved 
yon for her sake, and to restore you to her. Once 
wholly recovered, you are both free ; and all I ask is, 
that you, too, may own that I am a man." 

"And a noble," cried Karolus, bitterly. "I deny 
it not. Pardon me, Puzco; I have not been just. There 
is my hand." 

"Count," said Puzco, taking his hand with an in- 
credulous smile, " this is too condescending.' ' 

"Puzco," replied the page of St. Ladislas, slowly, 
for he was faint with excitement, "ask me not more 
than I can give. I own your noble heart, your 
generous soul. I recognise your conduct as kind and 
manly. I give you my esteem, I cannot command my 

Klara spoke not a word. She had not recovered 
from the deep emotion she had experienced when Puzco 
owned his affection. To her his rude and earnest 
passion was new. She had been brought up with 
Karolms, and taught to consider him her future husband ; 
and as he was handsome, good, and young, she had ex* 
perienced warm affection for him. Unrequited passion 
was to her a novelty, and she pondered how love 
could at the same time cause such pleasure and such 
pain. The illness and suffering of Count Kumbor had 
awakened the womanly affections of her heart most 
energetically ; but the mental tortures of Puzco were 
viewed with more pity than even the physical ones of 
Karolus. She glided away from the now tolerably 
amicable interview of the rivals, to think over what she 
had heard, and to reflect on the audacity of the peasant 
who had dared to love her. 

The young page slowly recovered, and, as his body 
gained strength and elasticity, his mind recovered its 
tone. He had long and earnest discussions with Puzco, 
which opened a new world unto him— that of poverty, 
obscurity, and oppression, and its manifold miseries and 
sufferings. He learned to know that serfs and peasants 
can feel and think ; and he stood amazed at his own 
knowledge. It is only the incredible ignorance and 
pride of man, untempered by real Christianity, which 
can explain the long continuance of feudalism, tyranny, 
and despotism. There was in those days no educa- 
tion of the mind or heart, in reality. War and love 
were the only occupations of men ; and when men can 
only fight and make love, they are little apt to reflect. 

Karolus, Puzco, and Klara, would often find them 
selves, at eventide, conversing together familiarly on the 
one engrossing topic ; and when, at the end of four 
months, Karolus felt himself able to move, it was almost 
with regret that he thought of quitting the outlaw. 

Digitized by "LjOOglC 


As he recovered, Klara fell back. The intense ex- 
citement attendant on his early illness was over ; her 
mind, which had been unnaturally stretched, felt lassi- 
tude and fatigue, and she had a vague terror of return- 
ing to the regular life of towns, when she had roved so 
mueh at liberty in the mountains. While his men con- 
tinued their avocations, Puzco took his guests to all his 
maun tain haunts. He had been an ally of the outlaws 
for some time, but only completely joined them when 
elected their chief. He now was resolved to remain 
where he was. He grew grave as the time for de- 
parture came ; bat not a word or look betrayed his 
intense suffering. Still the page of St. Ladishu could 
detect it, and he pitied his rival from his soul. 

It was the eve of the day fixed for the parting. 
Oonnt Karolus and Klara were to be escorted to the 
edge of the woods which surrounded the mountains, 
and there a rude litter was to transport them to 

The Count had remained long silent. Puzco was 
pale and careworn, but strove to be lively. Klara was 
packing up a small box of things, which she took away 
in remembrance of their sojourn in the outlaw's cave 
and hills. Her tear* fell fast and thick, and the Count 
saw them. 

" Puxeo !' ' said he, suddenly, speaking with a gravity 
which was above his years. " You saved my life, the 
honour of my affianced bride; for four months you 
have devoted yourself to us, and to-morrow we go, 
having done nothing in return." 

" Count!" exolaimed Puzco, " you will not insult me 
by talking of recompense." 

"I shall, Puzco," continued the Count; "nay, look 
not angry. There is but one recompense which I 
can give yon, but one you would accept, and that is 
Klara. I shall go alone to-morrow." 

" Mo I " cried Puzco, who was crimson with shame, 
while tears filled his eyes, "generous and noble young 
man. Would to God the earth were possessed 
by many such as you; it would be little matter who 
were nobles, who serfs ; men would be what God made 
them — brothers. But I cannot accept your sacrifice. 
Wed your affianced bride ; and all Puzco ask s " 

Klara stood pale and trembling beside them, without 

" I knew," said Karolus, gently. Where is the heart 
of Klara ? It will speak. But she is a good and pore 
girl, and will tell the truth." 

Puzco looked sadly towards the young girl. 

"Oh Karolus," she oried, sobbing, "how can you 
ever forgive me I" 

" I forgive you, my beloved, I forgive yon with all 
ay heart. You will always be my dear and sweet 
sister. We have been children together, and we were 
brought up to believe that we must love. We did. 

But Providence threw in the way one whom yon were 
not told to (ove ; and nature spoke. Yon love Powso, 
without ceasing to love me. This proves thai you 
felt sisterly affection here, and that true passion Jbavcl 
not touched your heart Look not down; be no* 
ashamed; weep not. I shall be happy, Klara- I axn 
doing a good action; and God never yet let one go 
unrewarded. I should do a cruel and selfish one to 
wed you. Go, tell him the truth ; be not ashamed, he 
is worthy of your affection. The man who, with e 
hated rival, and a beloved mistress in his power, 
for four months treated the one as a brother, the o titer 
as a sister, is nobler than a diadem could make him," 

And in those savage days how rare an act 1 

Klara stood with downcast eyes, burning cheeks, end 
scalding tears dropping on her bands. Pusoo was like 
a statue. He had never dreamed of a return, and he 
did not believe it. 

"Count! Count!" he cried, "spare her. She 
dares not say, from gratitude to me, that she deepiaos 
me ; but it is yo»— — 

"Klara, by the memory of our gentle and placed 
affection, which will be the pleasant dream of my future 
years, I adjure yon to speak." 

Klara raised her head, wiped away her teen, asd 

" I will do anything to please you, Karolus. Weald 
to God yon were my brother, for I ask nothing more 
in this world than to be your sister, and his win." 

The outlaw staggered to her, and received her in a 
long, wild, and passionate embrace. 

Karolus left them next day, after witnessing their 
union by a priest of Kerlea ; but his absence was only 
for a few days. He came back in furious haste. St. 
Ladislas had a desperate conflict at hand, which might 
cost him his throne ; and he offered Puzco, whose story 
Karolus had frankly told, the command of a regiment 
to be raised by himself among the discontented peasan- 
try. Puzco accepted ; and at the end of the war he 
and all the surviving members of his band became 
nobles by right, while Puzco received honours without 
end. He became a great landowner, and never to the 
day of his death forgot hie tenants. He could not 
change his age, but he made hk peasants contented 
and happy. 

Karolus married, as much to prove his resignation, 
and to force Klara to be happy, as anything able; but 
he made a lucky choice. His wife proved a proud 
jewel in his coronet, and Klara became a sister in 
reality. The two families were deeply attached, and the 
parents lived to see them united by the marriages of 
several sons and daughters. Their descendant* are 
now living ; and the males, who have alive in them the 
tradition of their great ancestor Puzco, fought to a MA 
in the late struggle for Eaagariaa independenee, 

Digitized by 




Popular BitUxy of British Sea- Weeds. By the Rev. 
D. Lawdsbobot/gh. London: Beeve, Benhani, and 

b notieiag formerly the series of illustrated work* on 
natural history — of which thli volume forms one— we omit- 
ted it, and ft has fallen oak of sight sluoo. Wo regret this 
ofrcumtUnoe, because it Is one of the best in the series; 
•nd on a put of natural history more neglected than any 
Other. Sea- weeds are the most neglected of created things 
by those who look for beauty In nataral objects. The weeds 
of oeean are oren mora despised than those of earth. They 
are east sometimes on our shores in the wrecked heaps, 
twisted from their native rooks, to be scattered on an inhos- 
pitable shore, and dragged orer our fields to swell our har- 
vests. They are then, and for that purpose, more valuable 
than the guano of Peru, ThecoasMde farmer knows their 
value Well i and so also does the owner of land overlooking 
the sea. In tome quarters of the Soottish coast the right 
to take sea-weed from the shore Is deemed highly pre- 
cious, and the limits of each farmer's finding are carefully 
marked. At one period sea-weed formed an article 
of oom meres in the Western Isles, and nearly over 
all parts of the Scottish coast where labour was 
cheap ; but many years since ths Legislature with- 
drew its protection from this branch of native indus- 
try, and the manufacture of kelp became unprofit- 
able. Mr. Landsborough, the author of this volume, is a 
minister of the Free Churob, residing at Saltcoats, on the 
coast of Ayr, and in the Frith of Clyde. He is well known 
as an enthusiastic student of natural history ; and a former 
work of his, entitled " Excursions in the Islo of Arran," 
taking a mora comprehensive field than the present volume, 
is a popular book, especially In the distriot where the Island 
of Arran, lying ia theestuary of the Clyde, is bostknown. Wo 
like Mr. Landsborough' s style of teaching in books. 0e makes 
his students agreeable wherever they go by many interesting 
narratives, and he converts them all at the end to a good 
and proper nee, taking care that this end shall never be lost 
light of from the beginning. We have seldom met a mora 
agreeable work than be has prodnoed on the bumble but 
useful' British sea weeds. He believes that kelp might yet be 
produced with someadrantage amongst tbo Western Islands, 
If the makers would make a wise and scientific selection ef 
material. The trade at one time brought £190.000 
annually into these islands, and might still produce a 
large sum amongst a destitute population, for the sale 
of iodine is increasing, and the demand is likely to ex- 
haust any supply that can bo obtained. Who knows but 
that we may yet tat the products of the deep cultivated 
with tome such care as Is bestowed by high farmers on 
those of the land? We copy Mr. Landsborough's acoount 
of a very common, and, as we were wont to think, a very 
excellent sea weed, that farmed a capital preface to break* 
fast, whoa polled from the roots of those great rocks that 
rise like • wall to the Northern Oeean, when the storms 
were stilled, and the dear green water rippled over the field 
of dulse, with oath tiny wave giving its leaves a freshness 
greatly valued by too epicure of eta weeds, who makes the 
past rocks at ottot Ms table and hit chair, and the ooean 
his purveyor >— 

" H.tB. — (On Koch, and oiler Algt. Very common. Jtmuitl 
or biennial. Winter and spring.) K. Falmara, Greville : — In- 
stead of giving any farther description of this plant, it is suffi- 
cient to say that it is dulse, and every child who has been brought 
np on the sea-shore is able to point it ont to the new-Hedged 
Algreologist. There is no sea-weed more generally regarded as 
au article of food than dulse. By the Highlanders it Is called 
duiliisg, which we learn, on high authority, is a word compounded 
of two Gaelic words, dnitle, a leaf, and visge 4 , voter, i.e. the leaf 
of the voter. From visgf is derived the word whisky; and with 
the addition of bavgh, Ijfe, we hare ths usquebaugh of the Irish 
(aqua vitee), the water of life. With how mneh more propriety 
might it be called the tester of death! In some parts of Ireland 
the dulse is called dillisi, which means still the leaf of the 
water, for esk means water ; hence we have so many rivers fa 
Scotland called Xtk, sack as North Esk, aad South Esk— i.e. 
North-water, South-water. The Highlanders and Irish, as wo 
have already stated, were much in the habit, before tobacco be- 
came so rife, of washing dulse in fresh water, drying it in the sun, 
rolling it rip, and then chewing it as they now do tobacco. How 
much better had it been for them bad they ttnek to the use of the 
less nauseous, less filthy, less hurtful, dulse, Indeed, instead of being 
hurtful, it is thought wholesome, and not unpleasant, especially when 
it is eaten fresh from the sea, as is the case in the lowlands. Br. 
Greville mentions that it is the true aceharine Fueus of the lee- 
landers. According to Lightfoot, it is used medicinally ia the 
Isle of Skye, to promote perspiration in fevers. In the islands 
of the Archipelago, it is a favourite ingredient in ragout*, to 
which it imparts a red colour, besides rendering them of a thicker 
and richer consistence. The dried weed, like many other 
Algffi, when infused in water, exhales an odour resembling that 
of violets ; and Br. Patrick Neill mentions that it communicates 
that flavour to vegetables with which it is mixed." 

We quote next the account of a very different article— 
the Melobesia Polymorphs)— that bas been, .and may still bo 
used for building purposes, and dwells— 

" On Submarine Bocks and in quiet Bags. — We have dredged it 
in Lamlash Bay, where there are extensive beds of it, at the 
depth of several fathoms. Similar beds are found at Rothesay, 
and in Lochfiue. It is very liard, and very diversified in form, 
as the specific name implies. Bay says that it is dredged out of 
Falmouth harbour to manure the land in Cornwall. And Mr. 
W. Thompson informs us that it is dredged in Bantry Bay for the 
same purpose. From Professor John Fleming we learn that it 
is so abundant in Orkney as to warrant the conclusion that it 
might be advantageously employed far agricultural purposes, and 
for building, especially as limestone is scarce in Orkney, and gene- 
rally of bad quality. Br. Walker, in his essay, soys:— -'Of 
the Cathedral of Icolmkill (Ionn), the cement is so strong that it is 
easier to break the stones than to force them asunder. It is of 
lime that has been calcined from sea-shells, and formed into a 
very grass mortar, with coarse gravel in a large proportion, and 
a great quantity of the fragments of while coral, which abounds 
upon the shores of the island. The colour of this coralline is 
generally white, where it lies bleached on the shore, but when 
newly dredged in Lamlash Bay it is of a reddish purple. At lint 
I was disappointed when the dredge cams full of this Jtilfapose. 
I soon learned, however, to hail its appearance ; for on examining 
it carefully, handful by handful, I found many precious things 
intermingled with the coral. One of these was Lima tinara, 
which, like those persons who built the cathedral of Icolmkill, 
employs much of this coral in forming its habitation.' " 

Tbo uses of the ocean's diversified treasures may be great 
as they are varied, for the subject is yet almost free from 
the Inquiries of soienoe ; only we know that God made 
nothing in vain. 

In our days, when sanatory reform is the great question, 
and • supply of pure water a pressing want, the story of 
those steady reformers, the Algts, must bo at least appro- 



" One reason, no doubt, why these plants are not more gene- 
rally studied, ia that the; are so minute that their beauty cannot 
be seen by the unaided rye. Even in the case of those whose fila- 
ments may be some feet in length, and which cannot fail to be 
seen, as they grow in masses of considerable breadth, the fila- 
ments are so densely crowded, that instead of being regarded as 
plants, they are looked upon as some green impurity, which, in 
Scotland, goes under the general name of tlaak. When a small 
portion, however, of this despised slaak is taken and laid 
on talc, and examined by the aid of a microscope, or even 
a hand-lens, the person who thus beholds it will be filled with asto- 
nishment ; he will see that what he regarded as shapeless filth 
is of exquisite workmanship, and worthy of the hand by which 
it was made ; and he may learn that what he thought worse 
than useless, instead of polluting the waters, is one great cause 
of their purity and wholesomeneas ; so that without these Algae, 
the waters would soon become so putrid and poisonous as to 
spread malaria over wide districts of country, and lay them 

Mr. LandaboroDgh tells us that the Algro not merely pre. 
Tents disease but also shelters life, and that millions or 
myriads who have molt probably a happy existence — though 
the curse of the world is found amongst them, for they 
light sadly and devour each other— lire amongst the tiny 
branches of the Algae. 

We copy next the account of an extremely pretty weed 
—one of the finest in the class, with a hard name, cer- 
tainly — but everything else connected with it is beautiful 
and soft in the extreme : — 

The specimens I got at Ballantrae were as fine as any I had 
ever seen. They filled a little fountain of water, on a hill-side, 
near the sea-shore. Wlujl brought out in handfuls from the 
little spring well, they were truly loathsome, or at least they 
would have been so to a person unacquainted with them, for they 
greatly resembled frog-spawn. I knew well, however, what a 
prize I had got ; and with the fine specimens they formed, many 
friends were supplied. The filaments were about six inches in 
length, and the specimens shaded with tints of various colours. 
When spread on paper, the beautiful beading of the filaments can 
be seen by the naked eye, but it appears still more exquisitely 
beautiful when a lens is applied. They are so gelatinous that 
in general they most be allowed to dry on the paper before any 
pressure is applied. Early in April this Batraehotpcrm makes its 
appearance as a light green down on stones, or sometimes on grass, 
floating from the edge of the pool. At a more advanced period 
it becomes detached, and continues for a time to grow in a free 

"There most be something peculiar in the water in which it 
grows, for year after year it continues to be fonnd in the same 
little well, though not got in similar-looking wells for many 
miles around. I have tried to transplant it into other pools, 
but without success." 

Science will yet bring all the stores of nature into the 
warehouses of industry, and many of these plants may 
be fonnd to possess properties equivalent to the fibrous 
vegetation of earth. 

This volume, like all the series, is brought out in an 
expensive style. Tbe coloured plates are extremely beau- 
tiful. The volumes of this series form most appropriate 
and useful books for the young. 

The Voice of a Tear; or, Retolhctiont of 1848 ; with 
other Pocnu, by William M' of the " Dirge 
of O'Neill," "TheSchool of the Sabbath,"&c. London : 
Hamilton, Adams, & Co. ; Edinburgh : Johnstone & 
Hunter; Dublin : J. Bobertson ; Belfast : W. M'Comb. 
Mr. M'Comb is favourably known to the literary public 
as the author of a considerable number of fugitive pieces 
of poetry, composed on a variety of interesting occasions; 
and of one or two more extended and elaborate poems, 
which deservedly commanded a large share of popularity. 
In the former cl ass of compositions, a great proportion 

which the author has happily collected in the present 
beautiful volume, we hare observed many a specimen of fine 
sentiment animating an equally fine form of expression. 
It is indeed only when these ingredients— lofty sentiment 
and lovely language — are brought together as by' a crea- 
tive hand, that poetry " becomes " what it ought to bo, " si 
living soul." Among sundry examples possessing scarce- 
ly inferior claims, we would direct the reader's attention 
to the " Songs of the Sun, Moon, and Stars," as realising 
much of tbe gift of poetic life, and as highly creditable to 
the taste and talent of the author. There is, moreover, 
in these songs the charm of a soft, sweet melody, which 
reminds one of the enchanting far-away echoes of the bugle 
amid our glorious mountain scenery, or, perhaps, better 
still, at the charming Lakes of Killarney. Let the reader 
judge by a few stanzas taken at random from the " Song 
of the Sun." 

" I visit the bowers when the opening flowers 
Their early oblation pay, 
And their incense sweet in the morning greet, 
Ascending with fragrancy. 
" Far down in the vale, where the primrose pal* 
Her beauties to me unfold, 
In her dewy eye I sparkling lie, 
Like a drop of living gold. 
" In my fields of light the eagle's flight 
On rushing pinion I see, ■ 
When his dark bright eye, in its brilliancy, 
Presumes to look on me. 

" In the balmy hour, when the gentle shower, 
Beflects my shining face, 
I softly diffuse, in the rainbow's hues, 
Tbe covenant sign of grace. 
" In the ocean's wave, my image I lave, 
As the proud ship sails away, 
And I hear the song of the mariner throng — 
The song of the sunny day." 

Gems of almost equal brilliancy on every hand invite 
our commendation. But we must pass on to notice " The 
Voice of a Year," the opening poem, which, in many re- 
spects, possesses merit of a higher order. Faithfully -as 
well as poetically has the author chronicled the leading 
events which followed each other in rapid and thrilling 
succession during the year 1848. What materials did 
that awful year furnish to the historian, the poet, the phi - 
losopher ! and some of the richest of these materials are 
presented in the poem before us, in masterly combination. 
The swell of the fine Spenserian stanza, which has been 
selected for this composition, is well fitted to afibrl 
" scope and verge enough " for the breathings of the spirit 
of civil and religious liberty. We take leave of the poem 
by strongly recommending it, and presenting the following 
lines :•— 

" Kings are a broken reed to lean upon, 

And armies to a king a rope of sand ; 
He rules secure who rales by love alone. 

Rejoicing more to succour than command. 

What were two hundred thousand guards at hand 
To Louis Philippe, in a perilous hour? 

So many dreaded bayonets to withstand — 
So many lessons of mismanaged power, 
Which Gallia taught her King in abdication's hour. 
" ViCTOBls. t — England's Queen ! — thy stable throne, 

Unshaken stands 'midst Bevolution's throes ; 
Thy people's hearts beat true to the alone, 

While Britain, 'neath thy sceptre finds repose ; 

A nation's honour in thy bosom glows, 
And England's liberties are safe with thee. 

Triumphant Queen I — thine empire never knows 

Wl^gl^VKL^ sea!" 



The History of the Puritans in England. By Professor 
Stowell, of Botherham College, United States. Lon- 
don and Edinburgh : Thomas Kelson. 
Wb hear now yearly more of the Puritans in proportion 
as the Lnudites appear under the title of Puseyites or 
Traotarians. Apathy and indifferentism is shaken, fer- 
ments, and the dead mass moves and separates. The 
process has been going slowly on sinces the time of Wes- 
ley, Whitefield, and Wilberforce, in England ; and 
it began at nearly the same period in Scotland. Pre- 
vious to that time a crust of chilly cold ice hod crept over 
society, incorporating nearly all the upper classes in its 
substance, and leaving little warmth of Puritan feeling — 
until one plunged a good depth into society, amongst its 
peasant classes, who read still, as their text-books on re- 
ligious topics ; Baxter and Bunyan in England, and 
Boston and' Willison in Scotland — with, in the for- 
mer, " Fox's Book of Martyrs," for historical informa- 
tion; and, in the latter, "The Cloud of Witnesses." 
That state and its time have passed away. The memory 
of the Puritans has revived; and, although we know not 
that the American poet was literally correct who 

" The pilgrim's spirit hath not fled, 

It walks in noon's broad light, 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead 

With the holy stars by night. 
It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 

And shall guard this ice-bound shore. 
Till the waves of the bay, where the May-flower lay, 

Shall foam and freeze no more ;" 

Although we know not that he is literally correct as to 
the pilgrim's spirit, yet we do know that where it has 
once lived there it will return again, if it has fled for a 

Professor Sewell's work seems written in a judicious 
and moderate spirit. The book is remarkably cheap— as 
are all Mr. Nelson's publications — and it is thus well cal- 
culated to make better known than they have yet been the 
origin of the New England States, and the spirit of Jhe 
Pilgrim Fathers. 

«r . 

The Episodes of Itisect Life. Second Series. London : 

Beeve, Benham, and Beeve. 
The readers of this magazine will remember that we 
have scarcely ever mentioned any work in terms of greater 
admiration of the text, the plates, the colouring, and all 
the departments connected with the publication, than 
" Episodes of Insect Life," first series. The second volume 
we have not yet read, but in richness of style, and the 
beauty of the illustrations, it forms a snitable companion 
to the first. 

Scripture Natural History. By the Rev. J. Young, A.M. 
London : Thomas Dean and Son. 
A well designed work, for the use of the young, with 
tolerable illustrations to hardly tolerable prose, and not 
quite so good rhymes, put in very glaring binding. Young 
people will like the pictures, of which there are many. 

Canada as it is. Dublin : John Robertson. 
This is a judicious epitome of information regarding 
Canada, that may be useful to intending emigrants next 
spring, as it has been to those who have preceded them in 
past years ; for we observe that it has reached a third 

vox. xra, — ire. nam. 

Cltapters on the Shorter Catechism. One vol. Edinburgh : 
Paton & Bitchie. 

As we prefer for the young the narrative form of in- 
struction, so we must approve of the scheme adopted by 
the author in this volume, of interweaving with the 
doctrines evolved in the shorter catechism illustra- 
tive statements, not forming so much a series of tales, , 
as the continuous history of one or two households, very 
like the occurrences that may be met in domestic life. 
Instruction of this nature can only be effective if the 
narratives be of a perfectly natural description. 

The old may seek excitement in harrowing and unna- 
tural histories ; in grotesque and exaggerated characters, 
and in circumstances or contingencies never likely to occur 
to any human being ; but the yonng will never take in- 
struction from statements not in accordance with their 
own experience. With these views we are greatly pleased, 
both with the design and the performance of this volume, 
which is calculated to lighten the Shorter Catechism to 
the young. 

Watts' Catechism of Scripture History. Edinburgh : 
Johnston and Hunter. 
We have a warm feeling to Watts' Catechism. In, 
an abridged form it was our first instructor in history of 
any kiud ; and wc remember to have considered the pages 
of our small 24mo a perfect mine of information, and to, 
have been much concerned about Abraham, Isaac, and 
all the other ancient worthies ; but the most interesting 
points were still in the New Testament history, which the 
able logician, whose mind was now in the schools of the 
most learned, weighing the highest sciences, and next 
down with us little folks in the nursery and at the fire- 
side, teaching us all to love Jesus, had brought put pro-, 
minently. Few similar works have undergone more- 
abridgements than Watts' Catechism, The present edi- 
tion is the full work ; and an introduction by the Bev. W. 
K. Tweedie, of Edinburgh, is appended. We think thai 
this catechism has been losing its old place amongst works 
of instruction, and we do not think that the young gain 
much by that change. • - 

The Scottish Christian Journal. Grant and Taylor, 

We have received the first volume of this periodical. 
The contents ore varied and interesting, and extremely 
well adapted to answer the design contemplated in tho 
prospectus. While the majority of the articles are devoted 
to the elevation and improvement of the masses in our 
Christian communities, there are some that may be 
perused with profit by the theologian in his study. Tha 
periodical is conducted with exquisite taste, sound judg- 
ment, and intelligent piety. 

* i 

Views from Calvary. By William Leask. London : 
J. Snow. . 

The author of this little volume — which is chiefly 
intended for young persons, but is profitable to the oldest 
—is the minister of an Independent Church' at Ken- 
nington, London, who has written many similar and 
excellent works, of which we- have read none without 
being constrained to admire the spirit that pervades them. 
Mr. Leask brings up the affairs of time to the Bible 
judgment-seat, tries them by its standard, and seeks an 
infusion into these of its spirit. He does not, therefore. 



neglect eternity in attending to time; but imitates strictly 
the inspired teachers who dealt with both together ; and 
appear to hare regarded time as the introduction to 
immortality — the crysaUis state through which men mnst 
pass. Those authors who treat the great doctrines of re- 
ligion, and omit their bearings on the interests of time, 
either from a fear of man, or a sentimental and sublimated 
feeling of contempt for the subject — nothing better than 
either affectation or asceticism — seek in one way to be 
wiser than is written ; and, in a constructive sense, may 
be held guilty of the sin mentioned in Revelations xxii. 
19. Mr. Leask is not one of these writers. A single 
passage will show the character of his work : — 

" The patriot, whose love of religions liberty is inspired at the 
cross, feels that he is co-operating with the great design of the 
gospel, when he pots forth efforts to break every yoke, and to let 
the oppressed go free. Righteousness exalteth a nation. Na- 
tions are to he blessed in Christ as well as individuals. The 
liberty with which the Son makes a man free, makes him anxious 
that every slave-fetter may be broken throughout the world." 

Rudimentary Dictionary of Terms rued in Architecture, 
Civil and Naval, jre. London : John Weak. 
Farts I. and II. of this work which we have seen lead 
ns to infer that the compiler is a modest man. He might 
have called his book, if he is to finish it as it has been 
commenced, by a more ambitions name, without giving 
critics ground to blame him. The explanations afforded 
to the various terms used in building operations for the 
land and the waters — in mining, and in the several de- 
partments of mechanics — are fuller and more complete 
than the term •« dictionary " leads ns to expect ; but buyers 
never quarrel with more than they bargain for, or are pro- 
mised. We hare not only written explanations, but, for 
a small book, a profuse number of engraved illustrations, 
that, to non-professional men, ore valuable. The profes- 
sion best know their value to them ; but the work, so far 
as complete, deserves to be successful. 

King Arthur. Second Edition. By BirE. Bulwer 
Lytton. London : Henry Colburn. 
We know not that, on the second edition of this 
celebrated poem, we should say more than record its 
appearance. The poem has been criticised in almost 
every quarter, and its occasional political references 
render it more likely to have unfair treatment amongst 
some parties. On the whole, the first edition was 
well received by the press, and the public pronounced 
more decidedly on its merits. In the latter statement 
we refer not to the sale of the work, with which we 
are unacquainted, but to the opinions we hare heard 
rather than those we have read regarding its merits. 
8ir Edward Bulwer Lytton 's works have attained a 
wide class of readers. We remember once, in a long 
drive in Ireland, to have been recommended to pull 
up at the house of a friend's friend to rest the beast 
that probably would be wearied as we reached the 
place. It was one of those spots certainly where 
man and horse might willingly, for an hour, rest and 
be thankful— a very pretty cottage in one of those 
nooks of rare beauty that are to be found frequently 
in Ireland. The owner belonged to the prosperous 
ranks of the middle classes; and we found him with 
• friend, and " the New Timon" in his hand. The 
Irish gentlemen were greatly pleased with the book, 
and puzzled regarding its author ; and we were nearly 

as much puzzled to know how it had got so soon into 
suoh an out-of-the-way corner, without a bookseller's 
shop within twenty miles. King Arthur, we hare no 
doubt, is obtaining a similar circulation, and so a 
second edition has been required. 

Faett in the Fir*. London : Warwick tt Co. 

A similar book to "Christmas Shadows," written 
in a good spirit, and well written ; with soma 
good illustrations. 

The principal person is a young literary man, 
not well to do in the world, who lives by translating 
cheap, and grumbles : — 

" Master Edward was apt, as we have already discovered, to 
get disconsolate and mopish, and careless of himself ; and not 
over-careful about offending others ; and to rail against society — 
and perhaps he had some cause, poor fellow — and to fancy he was 
persecuted, sadly ; and all these things, as Miss Clan used to 
say — and Miss Clara ought to know, I think — were very . bad 
qualities, especially in an author. Poor fellow, he looked won 
and jaded, as if be had been np all night, as, in truth, he had ; 
and as he sat moodily over his desk, transcribing from a book 
beside him — for he was engaged just then, in ' doing into Eng- 
lish' a novel from the French, for a pittance something leas than 
a day labourer would have considered bad pay ; his thoughts, 
though they were necessarily, and constantly, upon the book be- 
fore him, were far away — far among the green hills of where 
was once his home. 

" ' Aye,' he murmured, as he stopped a moment from his task, 
'I little thought, when my poor mother died, that it would come 
to this ; to toil all night; and half the previous day, for a mere 
meal. It can't last. I'm getting thoroughly disgusted. Some- 
thing must be done. If I had only just sufficient to let me be 
at eases month, only a month, I think I could write something 
that would stir np the cold blood of " The How," and shew the 
public what I am. It rots one's energies, this constant scrib- 
bling; and, after all, brings no adequate reward.'" * 

He quarrels with his landlady, but lores the 
daughter, and would be pleased with the mother, if 
he were not due her money. To obtain the meant 
of paying her he calls on Short & Strongbow, ex- 
tensive publishers. He sees Mr. Short, and thus 
tells his story : — 

" • To ask yon for employment-' 

" ' I'm sorry I can offer you none at present. Good morn- 
ing, sir,' said Mr. Short; and as Edward turned, heartsick, 
away, and made a bow — 

" ' Stop, stop,' said Mr. Short, with a sort of spasm in his 
neck ; ' don't be in such a hurry, man. What can you do P 
Have you anything with you P Where hare you appeared P 
So you write for any newspaper or periodical ? Who employs 
you now?" 

" The last question Edward answered first, and named an ob- 
scure publisher of cheap translations, and produced his lately- 
finished manuscript. 

" And then there was a long panse. 

" ' Brought up at college P' asked Mr. Short, at last, abruptly. 
'"No, sir; till my father's death I studied with a tutor.' 


" And then there was another panse, not quite so long, but 
Edward felt his heart beat audibly, and could not, for the life of 
him, repress • sigh. 

"At this Mr. Short looked np, and gasad intently on the 
young man's face for several seconds. At last as spoke— 
" ' Mother dead, too P' he inquired. 
••'Yes, sir.' 
"• How long since P" 

About eight months.' 
"'Yes, sir; very." 

" • Ah ! Father a bankrupt, I snppose P' 
"• No, sir,' answered Edward, the tears starting to bis eyes ; 
•my lather was a country geatteaan, who died suddenly; in- 



deed, before lie had chosen a profession for hi* son. Hi* wealth 
died with him,' 

" ' And he hadn't issued his life, of eourse f laid Mr. Short. 

'* ' Unfortunately not, sir,' answered Edward. 

"'Like the world, sir; like the world! Tonr father, Mr. 
Cuibuth,' said the publisher, ' was a very imprudent man — a 
wry imprudent man, or he wouldn't have left his son without a 
profession. Ah ! Mother didnt long survive him, I suppose P' 

" ' No, sir,' answered Edward ; ' not above a year.' 

" ' Umph !' mused Mr. Short ; ' and you think to get a living 
by your pen, do you I Bad trade, sir ; had trade !' 

" ' Well, sir,* said Edward, sadly, ' I mesa to try.' 

" And then, for a little while, the two sat silent, gazing on 
each other ; the elder with a fixed and steady stare, as if his 
thoughts were tracing his companion's past history ; and til* 
youth, with stolen, furtive glances, as though he were afraid 
to break the spell of the old man's thoughts; and every time he 
caught his eye, he blushed and sought the ground, 

" At last Mr. Short rose; and going to a book-case, took out 
a folded paper. 

"'There,' said he, 'try your hand at that. Bring it here in 
a weak— say this day week-*-and I'll see what I can do. No 
thanks^-7-the task's not easy, I've dpvoiad too much time to. you 
already. James,' and be touched a bell at his right hand, and 
a youth entered from an inner room ; * take this gentlemen's ad- 
dress,' handing him the card Edward had sent up at first. ' Good 
morning, sir.' " 

Mr. Short'* remarks corresponds with his name; 
bat thoy are good and useful, while they cheer the 
young author : — 

" The walk to his employer's house was a less mechanical per- 
formance than usual that morning ; and after delivering Ms 'copy,' 
as it is called, and receiving its price in shillings and sixpences — 
it was'nt a very heavy parcel, you might have put it into your 
waistcoat pocket — as Edward did, indeed, with ease." 

The author went to walk in the country, fell into 
a day]dream, and had a conversation with a navvy, 
whom he envied, because he earned two pounds fire 
shillings weekly. 

" And there they were, that pair, conversing ; like, and ye* 
unlike. Like, for they ware both men of about the same age and 
height ; bat then the resemblance ended, for Edward was tall, 
dark, and thoughtful, with black hair hanging in rich clustering 
masses round his face ; thill almost to attenuation, and of deli- 
cate proportions ; a broad, ample forehead, small neck, and hands 
like a lady's : Bob Bayner, on the contrary, was tall and fair, 
with short, eurly light hair, aud arms and chest like a giant's ; and 
as he laboured with the heavy pick-axe, it came down with such 
force as sent the earth from beneath it with a crash. And there 
was upon bis face the brown of labour ; and on his hands the 
marks of toil ; and on his forehead and bjs chest the bloom of 
rude and ruddy health. 

" ' And so,' said Edward, in continuation of their conversa- 
tion, whieh was broken every minute by tha fell of earth, 
which necessarily obliged him to follow the labourer in the de- 
scent, ' you're quite contented with your lot, are yon P' 

" ' Well, mister,' answered Bob. 1 1 don't complain. A man's 
got little to complain of as has health and strength.' 

" ' And about how much do you earn n-neek at this kind of 
labour t" 

" ' Well, about two pun fire.' 

" ' Two pounds five I what, regularly, all the year round f 

" ' Yes, pretty reg'lar, at this sort of work. The railroads is 
a spreading all over the country ; and 'tisn't every chap as can 
stand the work ; and so we as can is seldom a wanting any.' 

" Edward actually envjed the labourer. 

" ' It must be a poor, hard kind of life,' said Edward, 

" ' There's good money to be made at it, though, sir,' answered 
the man, running out, to another omnibus. 
, " ' Good money,' said Edward ; ' not much, I should imagine.' 

" ' About ten bob a-day; sir.' 

"'About what?' 

'"About ten shillin's a-day.' 

"'Impossible!' said Edward, putting his hand into his pocket 
and feeling his little fortune safe. 
" ' Why, air, yon see,' replied the man, returning from another 

'journey' into the road, 'there's two hundred an' fifty busses 
ruus up and down this here ill six times a day; and the con- 
ductors on this here road is rayther proud, and doesn't care about 
dirtyin' their shiny sheas and gloves; and so, if I only gat* a 
penny now and then, it soon mounts up.' 

" ' Well, I should never have thought it,* said Edward. 
'"It's ttue though, sir; you only ax the man atop o' f other 
ill, sir, he'll say the same, i'll warrant.'" 

Going home, he got into a quarrel while endea- 
vouring to help a weak boy, had his pocket picked, 
was seized by the police, confined for a night, 
rescued by his landlady; fell into fever, was nursed 
by Clara, his landlady's daughter, had a bene- 
volent doctor, a humourist ; got slowly better ; fell 
into another fever of love for Clara, as was natural, 
won her heart, pleased the doctor, and the land- 
lady, and Mr. Short; wroto for a magazine, and 
completed a volume; succeeded in everything; 
married Clara, and was happy. The bye-play is 
excellent, and the subordinate characters get all 
married and happy in the end. 

The following scene, as artistes say, is true to 
nature t— 

" And passing over a handsome pier where handsome ladies 
are sitting reading books, and a band is playing, and through a 
handsome street, aud round a crescent, and through a street 
opposite, where rows of ypnnjr trees are growing which will one 
day form a grove, lined on each side by houses built in the mock 
Elizabethan style — with red brick porticoes, and red brick odd- 
shaped little gable ends, aud curiously formed windows, and 
strange-looking tiles on the roofs, surmounted by antique twisted 
chimneys— that look so new that you'd think they were scenes 
in a piny rather than modern Christian houses. The pair ascend 
a gravelly hill, where the grass is almost worn away with tha 
constant tramp of feet, and on top of which is an old windmill 
turned into an observatory, where, iu the galleries, people sit and 
drink, and fancy they enjoy the country, and enter a tavern — 
galleries all round too— nnd, calling for the waiter, who obsequi- 
ously attends and hands them a soiled bill of fare, they sit dswp 
and order dinner, which they enjoy immensely. 

" ' I say, Phil,' says Mr. James, taking tho initiative, 'it's no 
use staying here ; suppose we walk to Cobber.' 
" ' Just the very thing, my boy,' replies his friend. 
"' Waiter!' 

'" Yes, sir — coming, sir,' that ubiquitous individual exclaims ; 
and in about bve minutes, during which he hss served two 
dinners, and taken the money for one more, and pocketed tha 
perquisites, he does come. 

" ' What's to pay f ' asks Phil. 

" 'Let me sec, sir,' says the waiter, putting on hia aahndating 

face ; « two dinners, sir, three ; cheese, air 9 Three and four 

two stouts, one brandy — cigars, art No eigursj four and. 
seven, sir.' 

"Upon which, Phil magnanimously throws down two half- 
crown pisuss, and tells the waiter to keep the change. 

Tliani ye, &jr,' said tlu) obsequious man jp whita, posketjag 
the money. ' Good day, gentlemen.' 

" ' That's the ticket," exclaims Jem ; 'and, now for Cobber ' 
"They descend the hill, and take the path to the right, and 
are soon upon their way.' 1 

These two volumes are quite as good as any 

other Christmas books we have seen. 

Christmas Shadows. London: T. 3. Newby. 
We hare few Christmas books this season. The 
'•^hadows" is the largest we have seen. It is a very 
neat volume, got up in the style of Mr. Dickens's 
works, and well written, but it is published anony- 
mously. The illustrations are good and numerous. 

The story is one of the times. The hero is a 
shirt-maker, His victims aie the needlewomen and, 
hi, clerk. The tale opens with a morning's work 


by Cranch, the shirt-dealer. It is bad work, for he 
scolds all his workers, and is very severe on his poor 
elerk, whom he has for twelve and six. At night 
Cranoh goes to balanoe his books, takes a strong 
glass of something, good or bad as people think — 
most people, when sober, saying bad — and falls 
asleep at a warm coal fire. 

He dreams, and the dream is the gist of the 
book. Falling into a deep and troubled sleep, he 
dreams that he wakens in eternity. A spirit takes 
him first to see the evil he has done; and next, the 
condition of his own daughters after his death. 
The passages in the world of spirits contain re- 
markably powerful writing; while the events con- 
vert Cranch, and make him a worthy man ever 

Cranch, in his spiritual state, overhears the fol- 
lowing conversation in a honse where his youngest 
daughter is lying dead. She died from want and 
over-embroidering :— 

" 'You're t sensible woman,' said the man, addressing him- 
self to the last speaker ; ' God bless you, Mrs. Tripe ; whyl've got 
an uncle — ninety-four years of age, last May — who's invented all 
hit money in cemetery shares; he's got fifty in the Metropolitan, 
Universal, and Eveiy-mau-his-own-undertaker Cemetery, jilst out 
of London — four monuments, and twenty three tombstones in 
it already ; without counting a little tablet on the wall„pn the 
Tight hand side, just as you enter. It would do you good to 
see him, on a fine Sunday afternoon, sittin' down, a countin' the 
funerals, as they enter the gate, and looking as happy as a — 
a bird of paradise, ma'am.' 

" Miss Tripe was about making some observation, but was 
prevented by the old woman, who, addressing herself to the man, 
said, with severity, 

'"I don't know, sir, whether yon know you're intruding or 
not ; but I must say, your room would be much better than your 
company.' " 

Miss Tripe is a person of superstitious mind, and 
holds some old Saxon notions : — 

" ' Missis Pilligrip — Missis Pilligrip,' shouted Miss Tripe's 
voice, at that moment, from below stairs. 

'"Does any one want me?' asked the old woman, going to 
the door. 

« ' Only me,' replied Miss Tripe. 

« * 'What do you want, theuP' she inquired, half pettishly. 

" ' Nothin' partikiler, I only want* to tell you there was a 
couple of windin' sheets in the candle, last night.' 

"'Well, what of that P" 

" ' And a dog, a howlin' like winkin,' all night long, at the 
top of the court, which accounts for the — ' " 

The conversion causes Mr. Cranch to give his 
needlewomen coffee in the morning, and to ask his 
clerk to tea. Tuff at tea is dull and nervous : — 

• " She is a tiresome little creature, isn't she, Tuff P' said Cranch , 
good humouredly ; but I suppose yon must submit to her.' 

I am certain Mr. Tuff won't get his tea in peace, if he 
does,' said Kate ; ' besides I am sure he would have sat by me.' 

".' There ; you hear that, sir P' said Mrs. Cranch, laughing ; ' I 
must advise you to take care of yourself.' 

" Tuff looked very embarrassed, and, after saying something 
very unintelligibly, in reply, he deposited his hat (which, for some 
reason or other, best known to himself, he had brought with him), 
under the sofa, and then timidly took his seat at the table. 

" ' Do you prefer cream or milk, sir P* inquired Mrs. Cranch, 
who presided." 

Even the increase of his salary, from twelve shil- 
lings and sixpence by the week to £120 per annum, 
makes Tuff nervous :— 

" As Tuff did not know what to say, he did as most people 


generally do when they are in that predicament, that is, he gated 
very intently at the fire. 

" 'I must tell you in a whisper; indeed I must!' she ex- 
claimed, as soon as she had gained her father's consent ; ' so that 
you must hold your face down a little lower, or else I can't reach 
your ear.' 

"Tuff inclined his head — a very little sufficed — but still kept 
his eyes fixed on the Ire, as though his very existence depended 
on his not losing sight of it for a moment. lie, however, quickly 
drew them away, when Hose, after making a passage with her 
hands from her mouth to his ear, had whispered a very few 

" ' No — no — Miss ;' he gasped ; ' you've made a little mistake 
— indeed you have ! — you're only joking with me ; I know yon 
are, Miss!' 

" ' Have I made any mistake, father T cried Rose, clapping 
her hands with joy. ' Didn't you say you meant to give him one 
hundred and twenty pounds a-yearP' 

" ' That is my intention,' replied Cranch, benignly. 

" 'Why I'm not worth it,' said Tuff, turning red and white, 
by turns ; ' I'm not worth half that.' " " 

The result is, that everybody is happy. Cranch 
pays more for stitching and sewing ; Tuff marries ; 
and they all prosper. The book will be popular. 

The Nile Boat ; Glimpiet of the Land of Egypt, By 
W. H. Bartlett. London: Arthur Hall, Virtue & Co. 

Tins volume will be the most popular work on Egypt 
that we yet have amongst tbo class who furnish drawing- 
rooms with handsome books. Mr. Bartlott'a name is suffi- 
cient to give it a large circulation. No better works on the 
East have appeared than the " Walks about Jerusalem," 
and " Forty Days in the Desert." 

The plates form tho most attractive oharm to many in 
Mr. Bartlett' s books; but tho text is always written in a 
style that would support the author's fame if he stood by 
tho pen alone, and never used the penoil. 

The present volume contains seventeen woodcuts, and 
thirty-five exquisite engravings, of Egyptian scenery. 

The engravings alone would make a popular work, and 
the narrative of it discloses nothing new regarding Egypt, 
tells in an easy flowing way the circumstances of its popu- 
lation, and the attractions of the Nile. 

The commencement of his journey in the Mediterranean 

had its catastrophe : — 

" The weather was at first beautiful, but on the second 
day became squally. We passed the rndo wild mountains of 
Sardinia; the wind sunk, but left a heavy swell, whioh kept 
me awake to a late hour in the night. Suddenly I was 
alarmed by a loud noise on deck, muoh stamping, and ories 
of ' Back her.' Evidently some disastrous event was moment- 
arily expected ; but whether we were about to run down a 
flshiui; boat, or were ourselves on tho point of being crushed 
into the ocean depths by the keel of some monster ship of 
the line, was all uncertain. I leaped from my berth, and 
was groping across the cabin, when the crash took place. It 
seemed trifling, as though wo had bnt grazed another vessel, 
and I hastened up the gangway quite relieved of my alarm. 
On the deck, however, all was confusion and clamour; but 
in the midst of it the men were engaged in hastily letting 
down a boat; it was a dusky night ; our ship was rolling in 
the heavy sea, the wind was aft. and the smoke driven for- 
ward involved the look-out in obscurity, but I could see, al- 
though with difficulty, a brig pitching laboriously at a short 
distance. Shouts were heard on board her ; onr boat put off, 
and was soon lost to sight among the rolling billows ; all 
was suspense, when the cry burst out forward, that thelorii 
was sinking. I strained my eyes through the gloom, and 
beyond the swelling ridges of water that successively traced 
their dark outlines against the sky, distinctly saw the masts, 
but only for a moment ; in the next they had disappeared, 
and almost at the same time, a boat, deeply laden, was seen 
emerging from between two gulphy waves and making for 
us. This wild scene passed as rapidly and as confusedly as a 
dream. The crowded boat was soon alongside, tossing dan- 


jreroualy in the swell; rope* were let down, and one by one 
the crew of the brig, of whom happily all had been s>aved, 
were hauled up to the deck. The Aral I but came no w.n a hoy 
or only twelve or thirteen, albeit looking, in his blue woollen 
sbiri and sailor's trousers. o:ie of the little fellows I 
ever law. Asleep in his rude cot, he had been hastily 
snatched from destruction, and stood scnrcoly awnk-\ and 
quite confounded a* hi* novel situation. We had struck the 
vessel amidships, and slight as the shuck seemed tome, had 
completely torn open her side; the crew had barely time to 
throw themselves into the boat, and get clear of her, ere sbe 
filled and went down. Tho darkness, our blinding smoke, 
and the accidental jjoinyout of their lamp, which occasioned 
some mistake in their steering, were the oauies of this mis- 
fortune, which cast its gloom over the rest of our short voy- 
age to Malta." 

The steamer stopped at our great fortross in the Medi- 
terranean sea, and the voyage from Malta to Alexandria 
was short and dull : — 

" And now again we were safe on board, and gliding out 
of the harbour. Domes and terraces, ramparts and quays, 
flew by. The fort of 8t. Angelo, with its solitary sentinel, 
and the meteor flugof England waving from its battlements, 
succeeded — and then again the open sea, all sparkling and 
quivering with the warm reflected light As we stretched 
away, the walls and towers m.issed into a glorious picture, 
bathed in that same rosy hate, now dying away, until all 
faded into indistinctness ; and nothing met the eye but the 
stars, sleeping in the pale azure, and the long traoks of phos- 
phoric splendour, in which the glow-worms of the deep lay 
telling of the vagrant keel that had disturbed their slum- 
bers. Our voyage through this summer sea was brief and 
prosperous. The sky grew warmer and warmer, as we 
neared the coast of Africa, tinged, as it were, with a reflec- 
tion of the Lybiao Desert— a soft purple hue, rather than the 
deep blue of Italy. Ou the fourth day appeared a long, low, 
yellow line of sand, scarcely visible above the azure sea,witu 
a few distant palm trees, like black specks, and camels 
pacing slowly along the shore, announcing that we were on 
the threshold of those lands of which we havo so often 
dreamed — the hope of visiting which was, perhaps, at one 
time too extravagant for a moment's indulgence. 

Of the population of Alexandria Mr. Bartlett re-echoes 
the common opinion of travellers : — 

" Sullen, repulsive-looking Copts replace the exolosive 
old Egyptians, their reputed ancestors. Greeks aud Jews, 
too, swarm as before— both, possibly, changed a little for the 
worse; nor would it, perhaps, be any great injustice to the 
mass of Levantines, or ( with, of course, honourable excep- 
tions) to the Franks, who make up the sum of the popula- 
tion, even now to designate them as the 'sweepings' of their 
respective countries. The streets swarm with Turks, in 
splendid many-coloured robos — half-naked, brown-skinned 
Arabs— glossy negroes, in loose white dresses, and vermiliion 
turbans — sordid, shabby-looking Israelites, in greasy black 
—smart, jaunty, rakish Greeks — staid, heavy-browed Arme- 
nians — unkempt, unwashed Maltese ragamuffins — and 
Europeans of every shade of respectability, from lordly con- 
suls down to refugee quacks and swindlers, and criminals 
who bare got whitewashed aud established anew. Here a 
Frank lady, in the last Parisian bonnet— there, Turkish 
women, enveloped to the eyes in shapeless black wrappers ; 
while dirty Christian monks — sallow Moslem dervishes — 
sore-eyed beggars— naked children, covered with flies — and 
troops of wandering, half-savage dogs— with all the ordinary 
spectacles of Wapping and Portsmouth — present a singular 
and ever-shifting kaleidoscope of the most undignified 
phases of Eastern and Western existence, a perpetual car- 
nival of the motley." 

Cairo Is one of the best appointed eities for ecclesiastical 
buildings on the earth. Mosque extension cannot be needed 
there : — 

"Among the four hundred mosques in the city, many of .whicb 
are in a state of decay, other beautiful specimens may be nut 
with j bat, perhaps, the utmost perfection and variety of this style 
of architecture seems to have been reached in the tombs, which 
sre scattered wit host the walls on the south and east. Emerging 
from the crowded city by the Sab e Nuar, or Gate of Victory, 
the desert stretches from the very walls into the trembling haze 
of distance, and its dead and silent expanse receives an additional 
zmrafalness of aspect from the cemeteries which glitter and 
whiten in the burning sua, unshadowed by shrub or tree ; some 
with their gilt and gaily-turbaned headstones of yesterday's erec- 


tion ; others broken and half filled up with sand. Here, the 
Bedouins, who lore not the confinement of walls nor the society 
of civilized man, establish themselves on their flying visits to the 
capital, crouching in the shade of ruinous monuments, and. rais- 
ing their temporary camp on the surrounding sands, in the 
midst of their recumbent camels. As you advance, the hum 
of the city, faintly ascending above its walls, dies away upon the 
ear ; high mounds of rubbish conceal the tops of its minarets; 
and without enclosure of any kind, backed by hills of an aspect 
wildly desolate, these beautiful structures ' rise like an exhala- 
tion' from the blanching waste. None, even the most indifferent, 
could behold without astonishment such erections in the bare 
and open wilderness ; yet this sdds not a little to the funereal 
impressiveness of the sight ; but when we approach, and find 
how fast oblivion is gathering npon these mouldering memorials 
of former greatness, and still greater genius, wo might almost 
weep that such a fate must, and at no great distance of time, 
befall monuments which, in lands more enlightened, would be 
preserved as precious creations of art, which, in their peculiar 
style, have never been surpassed." 

But Egypt may fall into bettor hands, or those who 
hold it may improve before the Pyramids disappear, and 
the ruins of its old capitals be utterly lost. 

The visit to the site of Heliopolis furnishes one of the 
most pleasing sketches in the volume; and Heliopolis itself 
forms one of the most interesting ruins of Egypt. The 
city or its vioinity was the residence of some of the most 
distinguished of the inspired writers; and the scene in former 
years qf many great events. 

" It is a pleasant ride from Cairo to the site of Heliopolis. 
Passing through the Bnb e Nusr, and a long suburb, the 
road keeps between avenues of acacias, along near the edge 
of the cultivated land, which is watered by channels from 
the Nile, communicating with the canal which traverses tho 
city, and presenting many pretty rural soenes. In the de- 
sert on i he right are one or two of the ruinous tombs strag- 
gling afar from the cemetery of Kaitbag. One of these ap- 
pertains to the celebrated Melek Adel, the brother of Saladin. 
Before reaching the mounds of Heliopolis, is a well of fine 
water, on the border of a garden of citrons and palms ; in 
the midst of these is a venerable old sycamore, with a hollow 
trunk, under which the Holy Family reposed, according to 
tradition, on the flight into Egypt, and drank of the well. 
It is in truth a very pretty spot ; the citron thiekets resound 
with the musie of birds, and large vultures rook to aud fro 
on the trembling branobes of tho palms ; the knotted hollow 
trunk bears, like the old olives in the garden of Gethsemane, 
marks of the knives of immemorable pilgrims. The balsam 
tree, according to Poooke, was brought here by Cleopatra 
from the celebrated gardens of Jericho, but it is no longer 
met with in either place. A little beyond the village of 
Matareeh we enter the area of Heliopolis, between the 
mounds which indicate the wall, and of crude brick which 
surrounded it. The city was small, about half-a>mila 
square ; it was merely a collection of colleges and temples, 
but of the greatest celebrity, a* the chief seat of Egyptian 
learning. Strabo was shown the rich dwellings or the 
learned priests, and the bouses where Eudoxus and Plato 
remained under their tuition. The traveller, who ap- 
proaches the site along a dead level, is surprised to find that 
Heliopolis stood formerly on an artificial elevation, over- 
looking lakes which were fed by oanals communicating with, 
the Nile. Nothing remains of the splendid edifices of this 
city but one solitary obelisk, about 62 feet high, seen from 
afar rising above a grove of date and acacia trees. It boars 
the name of Osirtesen I., with whom Joseph is supposed to 
have been oontemporary, and it is thus one of the most 
ancient monuments in Egypt. The base is buried several 
feet in the earth that has gradually accumulated after the 
inundation, which now enters the area described as formerly 
overlooking the surrounding level. Osirtesen I. is the first 
great name in Theban history ; he reigned over Upper 
and Lower Egypt. Bo was the builder of the older and 
smaller part of the great temple of Karnak. It was most 
probably at Heuopolis that Moses acquired the wisdom 
of the Egyptians, and where he planned the liberation of his 
countrymen. Rate, too, or in the vicinity, Jeremiah wrote 
bis ' Lamentations' for their downfall. From the learned 
priests of Heliopolis, Plato, who studied here for several 
years, is believed to have derived the doctrine of the immor- 
tality of the soul, and of a future state of rewards and 
punishments. It has been mentioned in the description of 



Alexandria, tbnt the seat of learning »« transferred hence • 
to that city, and that the obelisks of Cleopatra (so call eJ : 
ohoe ornamented the fallen city of Heliopolis. 

" It is singuhr that this neighbourhood, the probable 
sceno of the Exodus of the Israelites p Tfcuteil by the 
Egyptian Pharaohs, shoald, in tho reig-. of Ptoli-mei', have 
afforded a refbge for certain of their descendants from the 
persecution of Antioohus, King of Syria. Onins, son of the 
high priest of Jerusalem, took refuge nt Alexandria, ami 
besoaght Ptolemy to grant him permission to build a 
temple like that of Jerusalem, anil to raise up a frontier 
defence against the aggressions of his Syrian rival. The 
permission was granted. The temple of Onion was finished, 
other small cities were grouped around it, and a consider- 
able body of Jews established themselves in the vicinity of 
their ancient seat of Goshen, where tbey remained till a 
late period. The sito of Onion is most probably »t Tel el 
Yefaod, or the ' Mound of the Jews,' about twelve miles 
north-east of Heliopolis." 

The numerous plates that illustrate the work an all be.ui- 
tifully executed, but some of the engravings, especially 
those of soenery, where the management of light and shade 
is so difficult and so happy when well arranged, are of the 
first olaas in the art. 

We do not name particular engravings, because there is 
• list of thirty-six, and all are completed with the same 
anxiety to attain excellence, and with great success in the 
effort. Nothing will give a clearer idea of the country 
—of its ruins, of its elear and dry climate, its dirty and 
wretched people— except a real Nile boat, and that is ex- 
pensive. , 

Mr. Bartlett proceeded on the Nile alone, and we regret 
that the state of bis health prevented him from penetrating 
into Nubia, upon the borders of which he stopped. We re- 
gard him as the best illustrator of eastern manners and 
customs. The time is not distant when the White Nde 
will be traced to its source among the snow-topped moun- 
tains of Central Afrioa. The scenery and the people 
will be alike new to Europeans, and will furnish 
a very fruitful theme for artists and narrators. When 
that day comes, wo trust that the scenery of the Upper 
Nile will be no less fortunate than Egypt is in its last 
illustrator; for we decidedly consider tho " Nilo B<>at" one 
of the best books of the present season. We like the book 
so well, that we intend to refer to it again. 

The Heireu in her Minority. By the Anthor of Bert ha's 
Journal. 2 vols. London : John Hurray. 

Kaloolih ; or Joumeyin<ii to the Djebel Kumri. Lon- 
don : David Bogue. 
A volume of fiction, that has not reoeired justice from 
us, and hat not been noticed so extensively as it deserves 
in the press. It is equal to Robinson Crusoe ; and to 
life-like are its narratives, that the reader experiences 
some difficulty often in dcoiding to believe them fictitious. 

The Four Pilgrimt, and other Poena. Dundee : James 
Chalmers. ' 
A provincial volume of poetry, that will bear, we think 
a larger notice. 

Panthea ; or tl<« Spirit of Nature. By Robert Hunt. 

London : Reeves, Benham, & Reeve. 
Eight Years in British Guiana. London : Longman 
and Co. 

Pilgrimages to Waleingliam. Westminster : J. B. 

Nichols & Son. 
Shirley. By Currer Bell, 3 vols. London : Smith, 
Elder & Co. 

National Evilt and Practical Remedies. By J. S. 
Buckingham. London : F. Jackson. 
A volume on the sanitary condition of large towns, 
that we intend yet to notice. 

The Hittory of Franet . Vol. I. From the French of 
M. Lame Hewry. By C. Fleming. London : Simpkin 
& Co. 

Mi na ; a Tale of the Dayi of Nero and Ae Early 
Christians. One vol. Perth : Thomas Richardson. 

Review of the French Revolution. 1848. By Chanmier. 
2 vols. London: Reeve, Benham, k Reeve. 

Livct of the Chief Justices. By Lord Campbell. 2 vols. 
London: John Murray. 

Excursions in Southern Africa. By Col. Napier. 2 vols. 

London: William Shoberl. 
Windings of the River of the Water of Life. By Cheerer. 

London and Now York: John Wiley. 
Sketches of Reform and Reformers. London and New 

York: John Wiley. 
Bishop's Study of the Mind. London : Longman & Co. 
The Christian Philosopher Triumphing over Death. 
London: J. Snow. 


«0 a VEST OLD TBiri. 

A SMitl for the year that* s just began — 

A tear for the one jftst ended ; 
And let's hope to see, ere the new is done, 

The faults of the old amended. 

May our rulers grow wiser every day — 

Improve in their legislation, 
That soon, and in troth, we may proudly isy, 

Our'e now is a happy nation. 

A smile, fco. 

From henceforth, then, let us all begin 
To aid in the march of improvement, 

For this noisy stir's but the gathering dia 
Of a mighty social movement. 

A smile, 4c. 

The time is at band when right shall be might. 
When might shall be right no longer ; 

When knowledge no more shall eschew the tight. 
Nor ignorance be Urn stronger. t) 

A smile, to. 

A year Will not do an thsfs still to do; 

But let as he aye improving ; 
And the old year may far be outstripp'd by the ntW, 

If we but keep the good world moving. 

Digitized b A «ntt», IC 




ft have versified this little piece from a very exact literal translation, expressly made for the purpose, by «ry friend, Comtt 
Haphael Paravicini ; and I pre the latter that the reader may be enabled to judge how rar I have succeeded in ny attempt to pre- 
serve Tery nearly both the spirit and equivalent words. I may just add that a competent judge, Albert Smith, after reading my 14-8. 
version (of which he expressed, I believe, a very nattering opinion), justly and strikingly observed what a surprising tpmiuelle dif- 
ference there is between the genius of the two languages. In tie original Italian, as he said, the piece might with strict propriety 
even be sung in a church ; but in the English dress, although not a sentiment is altered or omitted, the idea of such a thing would be 
altogether revolting.— W.H.] 



Dolt thou remember that beauteous night 
In which we wake in speaking of Love P 

Oh ! what a flame excited our veins ! 
Oh ! what a happiness filled our hearts 1 

My hand pressed thine ; 

My heart throbbed on thine j 
With a sigh I answered to a sigh ; 

Thy lip my lip kissed. 

If the Heaven decreed 

That that beautiful night might not 
All my life finished 

In that lovely kas 1 

Hast thou forgot that beauteous night 
When love divine awoke to bless P 

Our veins with passion were alight, 
Our hearts were filTd with happiness I 

fondly did my hand press thine ; 

Warm our hearts together beat, 
My sigh answered unto thine; 

Thy lip fed mine with kisses sweet. 

Had it been by Heaven ordained, 

Ne'er should return that night of bliss; 

Safe had no more to me remained, 
But ended in that thallng kiss 1 


Europe will allow 1849 to die, and our century 
to attain middle-age in peace. The continental 
nations are not destitute of quarrels, but they are 
in abeyance. Winter is a bad campaigning sea- 
son, and the nations are worn out. But Russia is 
supposed by many only to wait spring for the pur- 
pose of enforcing her orders on Turkey, or sewing 
the Bosphorus and Constantinople. Other rumours 
bear that the quarrel has been settled. The latter 
are probably premature, and the former exaggerated. 
The diplomatic differences now existing comprise 
not merely the extradition of the fugitive Hunga- 
rians and Poles, but also the state of the Danubian 
provinces, which are occupied by an army of thirty 
thousand Russians, while the Turks have only a 
small force of ten thousand men in the provinces. 
In consistence with the terms of the last treaty, 
Our Government desire* it is said, the redac- 
tion of the Russian army in the Danubian 
provinces to its treaty standard. On that ac- 
count, our fleet is still kept in the neighbour- 
hood of the Dardanelles. It is useful in that 
position only to prevent an irruption of Russians 
by water from the Euxine on Constantinople. A 
naval force could not hinder the Austrian and Rus- 
sian armies from marching on Constantinople by 
the usual route through Adrianople. It might, 
indeed, prevent them from occupying the city of 
the Sultan, but that would form a small benefit to 
the Turks, if their European dominions were en- 
tirely overrun. 

The propriety of oar policy can hardly be settled 
until another question, now agitating society, has 
been discussed — namely, have we anything what- 
ever to do with the quarrels of foreign nations ? 
When that has been settled, the propriety of the 
present intervention will be open to inquiry tor nil 

parties. Meanwhile, it is a question for those alone 
who believe that we may very properly interfere 
with the transactions of foreign states; and that 
conjunctures arise in which we must intermeddle 
for our own safety, or from motives of humanity. 
The present is one of those cases, although, as 
respects our Indian empire, and the danger to 
it of Russian invasion, we believe that the sys- 
tem of railways now in course of formation 
through Russia is likely to be more dangerous than 
the possession of Constantinople by that power. 
The line of railway from St. Petersburgh to Mos- 
cow will be completed, and opened probably in 1860. 
Another line twice as long will touch the Caspian? 
That may be open in 1855; and will allow armies 
in any number, and stores to any amount, to be 
leisurely thrown into Persia, or through Bokhara 
intoCaboolorthePunjaab. Those who live in dread 
of Russian influence in Asia had better hasten the 
construction of railways in India, which would 
treble the present strength and efficiency of the 
Indian army, 

The Danish and Slesvig Holstein quarrel is not 
yet arranged, after all the fighting that has occurred, 
and a friend of ours now resident in Copenhagen 
anticipates that there will be more bloodshed ere 
the business is placed on a peaceable basis. Our 
advice to the Danes and Swedes, who form kin- 
dred nations, is, that as neither of them have 
a fixed hereditary succession, they should unite 
their crowns, interests, and parliaments, and in- 
sist for a frontier up to the Elbe for united Scan- 
dinavia. The British Government should be wise 
enough, we think, to support the union, and their 
demand. Prance, we suppose, would take the 
same course, Many Germans would see that com- 
pliance on their part would be a wise policy, far 



all parties with a strong power near Russia in 

the Baltic. 

All Ireland, and the half of England, are involved 
by a new agitation for the restoration of protection. 
The meetings are certainly very large, and this 
new country party has been hitherto successful in 
any Parliamentary contests that have occurred. 

Mr; Cobden, and some other gentlemen in the 
north of England, are playing vigorously into the 
hands of the. new party, by threatening not to re 
form the Government of the Colonies, but to take 
immediate measures for the dissolution of the 
Colonial connexion. 

They will thus gradually force into the ranks of 
their opponents a vast mass of men, who will not, 
on any account, at least on their account, quit the 
colonies. And these opponents move their men 
well : — a small fixed duty will satisfy them they 
■ay — five shillings, or even four, ranging up to 
eight, as they can arrange is all their asking. If 
they had been in that mood seven years since, they 
might have had five or six shillings of duty at the 
present day. Its restoration is a more difficult matter. 

A rumour has obtained currency, daring the 
month, that Lord John Russell is re-converted to 
this fixed duty plan, which rests, perhaps, on no 
better foundation than the circumstance, that the 
Irish officials appear to have adopted that view — 
if we may judge, not from anything that they have 
yet done, but from the sayings of their friends. 

Another report pitches Lord John Russell into 
the House of Peers; makes Sir Robert Peel First 
Lord of the Treasury, and leader of the Commons, 
and establishes a coalition Government amongst 
parties who, being supposed to hold all opinions in 
common, are already coalesced. The arrangement 
would give discontented parties an opportunity of 
slipping out of their ranks, and turning into other 

It is stated with greater confidence that Earl 
Grey leaves the Colonial-office, and that Mr. Fox 
Maale will take his place. 

Mr. Maule is possessed of popular manners, in- 
dustry, the desire to do well, and will not over-rate 
his abilities, so that the colonists would be pleased 
with the change. 


This great interest still continue* in a depressed condition, not- 
withstanding the plethora of capital which exists, and. the low 
rate of interest. Comparing the share lists of the opening with 
those of the close of the month, we find, instead of an improve- 
ment that the stock of the leading companies has declined, in some 
cues as much as three pounds per share. Of those having a down- 
ward tendency the principal are the London and North Western, the 
Midland, the North Staffordshire,, the York and North Midland 
and the York, Newcastle, and Berwick. The lines south of Lon- 
don are slightly on the rise, as have also been the Caledonian 
and Eastern Counties. It will be some time, however, ere pub- 
lic confidence is sufficiently restored, so as to lead real investers 
to risk their money with the same freedom as they do in other 
lands of joint stock property, or give the prices which the in- 
trinsic value of many of the leading lines demand. The wide- 
spread resolution, however, of the shareholders, to keep their di- 
rectors in check for the future, and to enforce a rigid economy 
in the management of their affairs, will, in dne course, produce 
a reaction, and bring back railway shares to something like their 
lair value. In the meantime, the effect of the Hudsonian blight 
is experienced by all. 

The actual business of the bygone month has been but trifling, 
being confined chiefly to special topics, or to the discussion of 
investigation reports. All that is material will be found in the 
following summary. 

Great North of England Bail*ay.—The adjourned meeting of 
this company was held on Friday, 33d November, at Darlington, 
to receive the report of the committee, appointed by the meet- 
ing on the preceding day to meet the directors of the York, New- 
castle and Berwick Railway, on the subject of paying the pur- 
chase money for tha' Great North of England Railway. Results 
of the conference, vix. : — 

"Article 1. That three-tenths of the sum of £3,647,500 due 
to the Great North of England Railway Company, shall be pay- 
able by the delivery of debentures, falling due on the 1st July 
1863, and bearing interest at the rate of four per cent, per 

"Article 2. That four-tenths shall be payable by debentures, 
falling due on the 1st Jan., 1855, bearing interest at the rate of 
four per cent, per annum. 

"Article 3. That three-tenths be payable by debentures, falling 
dne on the 1st July, 1866, bearing interest at the rate of four 
per cent per annum. 

"Article 4, The provisions of the preceding articles shall be 

embodied in a separate Act of Parliament, and the said Act shall 
convey to the shareholders of the Great North of England Rail- 
way Company, in guarantee for the payment, when due j>t the 
debentures aforementioned, all the security which the property 
of the York, Newcastle, and Berwick Company can, as on this 
day, be made to confer. 

York and North Midland Railway. — A special general meeting of 
the proprietors of the company was held in York, Nov. 28. Mr. 
Thompson in the chair. The first business considered was, that part 
of the third report of the committee of investigation which related 
to the Hull and Selby shares. The proposition of the committee 
was, that the holders of the Hull and Selby shares should have 
6 per cent, upon £8 out of the £10 called up, and that they 
should not be liable for any more calls. A resolution in favour 
of this was unanimously adopted. The part of the same report 
relative to the electric telegraph was next adopted. The next 
question was that relative to the directors. Mr. Stocks moved, 
on this point, that the recommendations of the committee on the 
subject be agreed to. An amendment was proposed to refer the 
subject to the next half-yearly meeting. The amendment was 
carried by a large majority. The meeting was then adjourned 
till the 4th of February, when the fourth report will be con- 

A meeting of shareholders in this company was held at Man- 
chester on Friday, 7th December ; Mr. R. L. Jones in the chair, 
to consider the resolution of the directors, with reference to the 
Hull and Selby purchase shares. After some conversation, a 
resolution was passed, recommending that the Hull and Selby 
purchase should be completed, and that the directors should take 
the necessary steps for effecting that object The adjourned 
special general meeting of the company, in reference to the Hull 
and Selby purchase, was held at York, December 21st ; Mr. 
Thompson in the chair. The chairman stated that they con- 
sidered that it was not desirable to complete the purchase, and 
they did not believe that one-half the amount required, £900,000 
would be paid up. An amendment was moved to the effect that 
the further consideration of the question be deferred till the 
February meeting. The amendment was lost by a large majority, 
and the original motion was carried. 

Bolton, Blackburn, Clitheroe, and Wat Yorhhire Railway. — 
A special meeting of this company was held on Wednesday 28th 
November, at Blackburn. The chairman, having moved a reso- 
lution to the effect that the proposed arrangement with the East 
Lancashire Company be carried into effect, an amendment was 



proposed to the effect, that the proposition of the Lancashire 
and Yorkshire Company, and alio the proposal of the East Lan- 
cashire Company be referred to the consideration of a committee 
of five shareholders ; ami that such committee hare power to con- 
fer with depntations from both companies, and to report the re- 
sult to a special meeting to be called for the purpose. The 
chairman pnt the amendment and afterwards the resolution, and 
the amendment was carried unanimously. 

London and South Water* Railway. — A special meeting of 
this company, Mr. Chaplin, M .P., in the chair, was held on 
Wednesday, 28th November, at the Nine Elms Station, London, 
for the purpose of enabling the shareholders to determine upon 
the propriety of making an application to Parliament in the en- 
suing session for an extension of time for carrying out the powers 
of the London Bridge Extension Act of ISM, the powers of 
which will expire in August, 1850, if the proper notices are not 
given to keep the powers intact. 

Mr. Christie moved the resolution, which was seconded by 
Mr. Snow ; when Mr. Kay, in a very lengthy speech, moved 
the following amendment : — " That it is at present inexpedient 
to apply to Parliament for an extension of the powers of the Lon- 
don Bridge Extension Act, 1S4C, it being the opinion of this 
meeting that the capital accounts of the company should be closed 
without further delay ; the liabilities of the company ascertained 
in their next half-yearly report ; and the future energies of the di- 
rectors should be entirely devoted to developing the traffic re- 
source* of the company on its different lines and branches, and 
to introducing and enforcing the most rigid economy in every 
department of the company's works and affairs." 

Mr. S. L. Walker, of Manchester, seconded the amendment, 
when a discussion took place, and the amendment was carried 
by an overwhelming majority. 

Another special general meeting of this company was held on 
December 22, at which a committee of investigation into the 
affairs of the company was carried. 

Great North of Scotland Railway. — The annual meeting of 
this company was held at Aberdeen, on Wednesday, 2Sth No- 

The secretary read the report, wliich stated that the direc- 
tors came to the unanimous resolution of recommending the 
shareholders to proceed with the execution of the line. For 
gradients 1 in 100, Aberdeen to Inverness*, all single line and 
works, £650,789 ; gradients 1 in 70, all single line and works, 
£54J,624. A single railway from Kittybrewster to Keith may 
be constructed for £280,871, and for a double line of works, 
with single rails, £375,334. That it is more desirable to adept 
the latter than the former, even though the line irom Keith to 
Inverness be never made more than a single line, or with gra- 
dients better than 1 in 70. The directors concur with Mr. 
Cubitt in his recommendation of forming the line, in the first 
instance, from Kittybrewster, near Aberdeen, to Keith, say at a 
cost of £380,000; purchase of Inverury Canal, £40,000; and 
other expenses £50,000 ; total £470,000, for a line 64 miles in 
length, extending half the way to Inverness. The contractors 
have agreed to take one-fourth of the whole stock of the com- 

lie balance-sheet to the 31st of August last shows that the 
receipts amounted to £71,242, and the disbursements to ±92,627 
leaving a balance of £21,384 due to the bankers : and that 
the company are possessed of land and other property sufficient 
to meet the above balance. 

The report was agreed to, and resolutions in conformity there- 
with passed. 

Aberdeen Railway. — The annual meeting of this company was 
held on Thursday, 29th November, at Aberdeen. The report 
states that the line will, in a few weeks, be opened to within six 
•miles of Aberdeen, when the carriage of goods will commence on 
the Lew portion of the line. The accounts to the 31st August 
show that £1,366,713 had been expended, leaving a balance 
against the company of £28,151. The report was agreed to. 

Cameron' i Steam, Coal, and Steamed and Lowjhor Railway. 
— A special meeting of this company was held, on Thursday, 
29th Nov, at the offices, Moorgate Street. Resolutions were 
unanimously passed, authorising the directors to call £4 per 
share, and to construct a branch line to Llanelly, 2} miles in 
length, at a cost of £4,500 

South Staffordshire Railway. — At a special meeting of the 
company, held at Walsall, on Thursday, 29th November, a pro- 
posal to lease the line for a term of 21 jean, at a rent for the 

first year of £13,387, and £26,775 per annum afterwards, being 
at the rate of 4 per cent, upon the capital, £669,350 — was re- 
jected by 2.253 i otes against 1,509 ; majority 744. The directors 
were authorised to raitr £100,000 on debentures. 

Carl, Blaclrori; end Paunge Railway. — The half-yenrly 
meeting of this company was held on Thursday, 29th Nov., at 
Cork ; Dr. Lyons in the chair. The report expressed a hope 
that by April next the line would be opened throughout to the 
public. The capital account showed that £66,680 had been 
received, and £61,627 expended, leaving a balance in hand of 
£5.038. The report was adopted. 

Waterfonl and KHSenny Railway.— The half-yearly meeting of 
this company was held iu London, Nov. 30. The liabilities of the 
company are stated to be £52,456, and the assets £15,550, 
leaving a balance against the company of £36,006. The accounts 
showed that £292,261 had been received, and £283,854 ex- 
pended, leaving a balance of £8,409. The directors were autho- 
rised to make application for powers to raise £120,000 by the 
issue of 12.0D0 preference shares of £10 each. 

Manekester, Shejield, and Lincolnshire Railway. — A meeting * 
of shareholders iu this company was held at Manchester, on 
Tuesday, 4th December; Mr. W. H. Bradshaw, presiding. 
Resolutions were passed in favour of another investigation of the 
company's financial position, and into the policy of the manage- 
ment. The meeting condemned the directors seeking to create 
new capital, to the amount of £500,000, before the borrowing powers 
of the company were exhausted. After various opinions had been 
expressed on the subject of the memorandum, Mr. Hubbard 
moved, "that this meeting do approve of and adopt, the terms 
contained in the memorandum of agreement read to this meeting, 
and that the directors of the company be authorised to carry the 
same into effect." 

Mr. Salt seconded the resolution, which was carried. 

East Lancashire Railway. — An extraordinary meeting of this 
company was held on Wednesday, December 5, at Bury ; Mr. J. 
Grundy presided, and moved a resolution to the effect "that 
this meeting approve of an arrangement being eutered iuto with 
the Bolton, Blackburn, Clilhcroe, and West Yorkshire Railway 
Company, for the working of the railway and traffic of that com- 
pany, by and with the rolling stock of the East Lancashire Rail- 
way Company, and confirm the terms submitted to this meeting; 
of a proposed contract and agreement between the two companies ; 
and empower the airectors to enter iuto a binding contract and 
agreement for the purpose." Mr. Dugdale seconded the resolu- 
tion, which was carried without a single dissentient. 

Regents Canal.— 'the half-yearly meeting of this company 
was held in London on Wednesday, 5th December. The revenue 
account for the half-year ending 30lh September last, showed 
that £23,318 10s. 8d. had been received, including £2,181 for 
towage, and £12,261 us. 8d. expended, including £2,971 for 
towage, leaving a profit of £1 1,057 5s. 

Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company.— Tim 
half-yearly meeting of this company was held in London, 6th 
December, to receive the report of tho directors, to declare a 
dividend, to take into consideration the propriety of a testimonial 
to Sir John Pine, and to elect directors and auditors ; Mr. James 
Malheson, M.P., in the chair. £500 was granted to the direc- 
tors, to be appropriated in such a manner as would be most 
gratifying to the feelings of Sir John Pirie. The directors and 
auditors were re-elected, and a motion for a dividend of 4 per 
cent, for the half-year was passed amidst general applause. 

London and Blactwall Railway.— A. special meeting of this 
company was held on Monday, 17th December, at the London 
Tavern. The adoption of the first recommendation of the com- 
mittee, " that none of the officers of this company be allowed to 
hold offices in another company, any part of the duties of which 
were to be discharged during the business hours of the company," 
was unanimously carried. The other recommendations of the 
report were referred to the directors for their consideration and 
sanction, prcvions to the next half-yearly meeting. 

South Wales Railway. — The adjourned half-yearly meeting of 
this company was- held on Wednesday, 19th December, at the 
Paddington station of the Great Western Railway, to receive the 
report of the deputation of shareholders appointed on the 30th 
August last. After a lengthened discussion, the report of tho 
directors, presented at the previous meeting, with the exception 
of the accounts, was agreed to. The report of the deputation of 
shareholders was postponed till another meeting, to he convened 
specially for the purpose. 



Subjoined will be found the most material facts tfcat have 
transpired since onr last, relative to tbis great and growing 
department of investment. 

Colonial Live Assuraxcb Compant. — The third annual 
meeting of this company was recently held in Edinburgh ; 
W. 8. Walker, of Bowlanri, iu the chair. In tho report by 
the directors, it was stated that, dttrinz the year from the 
25th of May, ISIS, to the of May, 1849, 205 new 

policies have been issued, assuring suras to the amount of 
£ 129,938 15s., yielding annual premiums to the amount of 
£4,635 10s. 9d. That the whole amount of assurances 
offered to tbe company, from the commencement of tbe 
business in November, 1816, when the first policy was 
issued, till 25th May, 1849, is £005,855 3s.; and of tbis 
amount, after deducting proposals rejected and assurances 
forfeited, there was in force at the date of balanco tbesnm 
•f £353,470 9s., yielding annual premiums to tbe amount of 
£ 14,279 9s. 6<1. That the amount of claims which tbe com- 
pany have required to meet since its establishment is 
£2,070 15s. 8d. That the directors hare made good invest- 
ments with that portion of the funds which was available 
* for the purpose. That the expenses of the institution are 
kept witbin the narrowest bounds compatible with the proper 
management and the extended field which tbe company's 
operations embrace. The report was agreed to unanimously, 
and, on the recommendation of tho chairman, it was agreed 
that a list of the proprietors should be submitted for inspec- 
tion at tbe prinoipal offices in London, Edinburgh, and 

Manchester Fire Assurance Company.— The half- 
yearly general meeting of tbe court of proprietors of this 
company was held in Manchester on November 29; Mr. 
Emund Buckley in the chair. The business of tbe meet- 
ing divided itself into two heads. The first objeot was 
to pass a new law for the regulation of the company. 
The law proposed was, " To authorise the hoard of di- 
rectors, in any case in which any of the funds i f the 
company are for the time being iuvested on security of 
any mortgage of any lands or hereditaments, and either 
■with or without power of sale, to agree with the mortgager 
or mortgagers, or with any person or persons entitled, or 
Claiming to be entitled, to tbe equity of redemption in the 

mortgaged hereditaments, for the purchase or lease of tbe 
equity of redemption in the mortgaged property, upon sneh 
terms as tbe board shall think fit; or, in case of the bank- 
ruptcy or insolvency (whether past or future) of tbe mort- 
gager, or other the person or persons for tbe time being en. 
titled to the equity of redemption in tbe mortgage property 
then to authorise the board, or any person under its direction 
by virtue of or under some order for that purpose iu the 
bankruptcy or insolvency, to bid for and become tbe pur- 
chaser of such property, upon such terms as the board shall 
think fit, and generally to act therein as to the board shall 
seem expedient, provided that the mortgaged property which 
shall be the sul ject of any sueb agreement or purchase be 
oonveyed to or vested in some or one of tbe trustees of the 
company, in trust for the sale or disposal thereof 
by tbe direction of the board, and with powers of 
letting, leasing, and managing in the meantime ; and 
that the trustees or trustee shall be possessed of the money 
to be produced by such sale or disposal, and of the rents in 
the meantime, upon the same trusts as are in the company's 
deed of settlement declared as to the moneys thereby author- 
ised to be invested, and the dividends, interest, or annual 
income thereof." The law was unanimously agreed to and 
passed. The second object of the meeting was to declare 
a dividend. The Chairman having briefly addressed tbe 
meeting, called upon Mr. Herbert Spring, the Secretary of 
the company, to read tbe report, which gave particulars of 
the proceedings of the company for the last year, and the 
same was unanimously received, adopted, and confirmed, 
and ordered to be entered on the minutes. A dividend, 
amounting to 5} per cent, for the half-year was then de- 
clared. After providing for the payment of tbis handsome 
dividend, there is an ample reserve left of £8,618 18s. Od. 
The meeting then proceeded to declare bonuses of £18 per 
cent, on cotton mills, and 10 per ceut. on all other risks, for 
the last year, to all annual policy holders. This company, 
we believe, is tbe only one that makes return bonuses an- 
nually to the policy holders. Tbe court then passed a reso- 
lution, tendering a rote of thanks to the chairman, tbe de- 
puty chairman, and the board of directors, for their valuable 
services during the past year, and requesting, in testimony 
of the sense entertained by tbe proprietors of the value of 
those services, their acceptance of the sum of £600. 



At Beniley Priory, near Stanntore, early on the morning of 
the 2d of December, her Majesty the Queen Dowager, after a 
long and afflicting illness, at the age of fifty-seven. Her Majesty 
retained her composure of mind to the last. 

The late Queen Dowager, Amelia Louisa Theresa Carolina, 
was born on the 13th of August, 1792. She was the eldest 
daughter of George Frederic Charles, Duke of Saxe Meiningen, 
one of the small sovereign states in Germany, and sister to the 
present Duke. Her mother, Louisa Elonora, was a daughter of 
the illustrious house of Hohenlohe-Langenburgh. Her sister, 
the Princess Ida, espoused the Duke of Saxe Weimar Eisanach, 
and with Prince Edward and Prince Gustave of Saxe Weimar, 
and tbe two Princesses of Saxe Weimar, were with her in her 
last moments. 

The early years of the Princess Adelaide were passed in tran- 
quillity at the retired court of her father. On his death, in 
1803, when she was only eleven years of age, she was left, with 
her brother and sister, to the guardianship of their mother, who 
was also appointed to the Regency of the Duchy of Saxe Meinin- 
gen, until her son was of age to assume the reins of government 
himself. All the accomplishments befitting her high rank and 
sex were, under the judicious care of her excellent mother, 
bestowed upon her, while those sound principles of morality and 
religion, and those enduring impressions of virtue, humility, and 
gentleness, the constant exercise of which has made her name 
illustrious for ever in the list of England's Qaeens, were early 
aad carefully inculcated on her mind. Her early years were 
passed alternately at the dncal palace in the capital city of 
Meiningen, and at the Castle of Altenstein, a picturesque country 
residence, where the reigning family were accastomed to spend 
the summer months. From her childish years, she was distin- 
guished for her docility, her goodness, her urbanity, and for all 
the virtues and graces which most dignify and adorn woman, 
especially in her suited polities. Her kindness and condescen- 

sion to all who approached her were the theme of universal praise. 
The death of the Princess Charlotte of Wales, in November 
1817, made an important change in the relations of the royal 
family. By that mournful event, the Regent, afterwards George 
IV., was rendered childless, and it became a matter of grave 
policy on the part of the unmarried royal dukes to contract such 
matrimonial alliances as might place the future succession to the 
throne of this country on s firm basis. 

The Duke of York, although married, was without issue, and the 
four royal Dukes, Clarence (the next in succession), Kent, Cam- 
bridge, and Gloucester, determined to marry. For the Duke of 
Clarence the Princess Adelaide of Saxe Meiningen was selected. 
Her piety, her gentleness, and her goodness, had made her 
known to the Royal Family of England; and, at the especial in- 
stance of his mother, Queen Charlotte, his Royal Highness, who 
bad been for some time separated from Mrs. Jordan, solicited the 
hand of the Princess Adelaide. His suit was successful, and the 
preliminaries of their union having been settled in London, and 
at Meiningen, by plenipotentiaries on both sides — the Regent 
having signified his assent— the young German Princess, in her 
20th year, quitted her fatherland to become Duchess of Clarence 
and the future Queen of England. The Duke of Clarence wu 
at this time in his 54th year. Accompanied by her mother, 
and attended by a numerous suite, her Serene Highness arrived 
in London on the 4th of July, 1818, and took op her temporary 
abode at Grillon's Hotel, whither the Regent and the Dnke of 
Clarence immediately went to greet her arrival, though the 
hour was as late as 10 o'clock at night. On the 9lh of the 
same month, the Princess was presented to Queen Charlotte, 
and on the 18th her marriage with the Duke of Clarence was 
solemnised in the grand saloon at the Palace at Kew; and at 
the same time the Duke of Kent was remarried to her Serene 
Highness Victoria Maria Louisa, youngest daughter of the late 
Duke of Saxe Cobourg, and widow of the Prince of Leiningen. 
Their marriage had taken place at Cobourg, on the 29th of the 
previous May ; but it was denned adv-abU that they sto* be 


remarried in England. At these royal weddings there was 
nothing of extraordinary atate or splendour. The marriages 
were solemnised by the Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by 
the Bishop of London, and the only persons present were the 
members of the Royal Family, with the Lord Chancellor, the 
Earl of LiTerpool (Prime Minister), and Lord Sidmouth (Home 
Secretary), with Count Mnnater (Minister of State for Hanover), 
smd Baron Kcenitx (Minister for Saxe Meiningen). The ceremony 
took place at three o'clock in the afternoon. In the evening, 
the Duke and Duchess of Clarence drove to St. James's Palace, 
Where they remained only a fow days, and then proceeded, for a 
■hort time, to the Duke's residence at Bushy Park. Ilia Boyal 
Highness soon same to the resolution of spending some time on 
the Continent, and, accompanied by the Duchess, he embarked at 
Dover, in less than three weeks after his marriage, and, proceed- 
ing by way of Calais, travelled onwards to Hanover. 

At the time of the Duke's marriage, his entire annual income 
-was £21,782. Upon his marriage he received au addition of 
£6,000 a-year. On this income his Boyal Highness had to 
maintain a family of ten sons and daughters, besides keeping up 
the establishment which his exalted rank required. Under the 
prudent management of his excellent consort, there were few 
financial difficulties in the household of the Duke. After their 
return to England, the Duke and Duchess resided chiefly at 
Bushy Park. 

The marriage was attended with much domestic bliss, but the 
untimely death of her children not only marred her Boyal High- 
ness' b happiness, but affected her health. She gave birth to two 
daughters, the Princesses Charlotte and Elizabeth. The first 
died immediately after being baptised, and the second survived 
only for a few months, having been born on fhe 10th December, 
1820, and died on the 21st of the following March. Her bodily 
atrength and constitution suffered also from her being prema- 
turely confined in 1S1B and 1821, and on two subsequent 

On the death of the Duke of York, in 1S27, the Duke of 
Clarence became heir-presumptive to the throne, when his in- 
come was raised to 440,000 a-year. This addition enabled the 
Duchess to put still more in exercise those acts of charity and 
generous but discriminating benevolence for which her character 
was so greatly distinguished, and which were the dearest objects 
of her heart, and the natural bent of her disposition. Her un- 
ostentatious charities and graceful hospitality increased with the 
Increase of income. In the retirement of Bushy Park, she ap- 
plied herself to such lady-like acts as fill up with usefulness a 
dignified and elegant leisure. An early taste for tapestry and 
embroidery, nourished in the quietude and seclusion of Meiningen, 
revived, and, together with a love of music and of the arts, filled 
up her vacant hours. She also read much ; and her reading, if 
not profound, was extensive, while her judgment in music, and 
even in pictures, was held in high esteem. In the comparative 
privacy of Bushy Park, she would have been abundantly happy 
but for the feeble state of her health, which even then gave 
warning of the premature old age that has prevented her reaching 
the ordinary limit of human existence. 

George TV. died on the 20th of June, 1S30, when the Duke 
of Clarence succeeded to the throne, under the name of Wil- 
liam IT. In the high position to which her Majesty was now 
raised as the Queen Consort of England, her conduct and 
bearing were the theme of universal praise. The accession of 
William and Adelaide to the throne was the subject of joy 
throughout the nation; and the Queen was deeply affected by the 
devotion and loyalty evinced by the people on that auspicious 
event. The amount of her duties and the sphere of her influence 
Were vastly enlarged, and no one could be more conscious of the 
new responsibilities which attached to her in her new position. 
In forming her household, Earl Howe was appointed her Ma- 
jesty's lord chamberlain, the Duchess of Leeds har mistress of 
ths robes, and the late Earl of Errol, who was married to the 
King's daughter, her master of the horse. On the 14th January, 
the Whigs being then in power, Lord How* ceased to be her 
Majesty's chamberlain, and the Earl of Denbigh Was appointed his 
■accessor. When Sir Robert Peel became Premier in December, 
188*, Lard Errol withdrew from her Majesty's service. Earl 
Howe resumed hi* former office as lord chamberlain, and the 
Bari of Denbigh became master of the horse. 

On the Otli of September, 1631, William tin Foirth and 
Qtran Adelaide were crowned in Westminster Abbey — more than 
a feu after their accession to tie throne, It was observed that 

her Majesty never appeared to greater advantage than at that 
memorable ceremony, never displayed more of the grace and 
dignity whioh usually characterised her deportment than in that 
venerable cathedral where the potentates of England and their 
consorts have been invested with the outward and visible sign* 
of regal power, at the commencement of every reign since the 
foundation of the monarchy. 

Daring the lifetime of the King, her husband, her Majesty 
took no part in politics, although often accused of exercising an 
influence which never once occurred to her. Daring the Reform 
Bill excitement, her piety and quiet virtues did not prevent her 
from being assailed with ealumny and misrepresentation. On 
the occasion of the customary address of the Bishops on bis 
Majesty's birth-day in 1833, after the King had returned his re- 
ply, the Queen, in performing her part in the ceremonial, con- 
cluded her answer with this very touching sentence : — "My Lords, 
I am particularly obliged to you for this declaration of attachment, 
at a period when I am most cruelly and undeservedly insulted 
and calumniated on many occasions." Bnt the most gross in- 
stance of those undeserved and indecent attacks upon her Majesty 
occurred at the time of the dissolution of the first Melbourne 
Ministry in 1884, when the fact was announced in the TSmtt 
newspaper, with the addition of the words, "The Queen has don* 
it aD." The article containing this memorable and unfounded 
expression was believed to have been furnished by a noble and 
learned lord, whose political conduct has not always been guided 
by that decorum and prudence which his high position demanded. 

Her Majesty's conduct towards the children of her husband, 
by Mrs. Jordan, was always marked by kindness and affection. 
After she became Queen they were retained in the closest inti- 
macy with her conrt, and she sew with pleasure their names 
enrolled in the ranks of the peerage, as well as in beholding the 
King distributing among them all the private fortune which he 
could command. "Towards the heiress to the throne, the Prin- 
cess Victoria, she ever conducted herself with the most friendly 
feelings. She watched her progress with a maternal care, 
tenderness, pride, and love, which showed the pleasure which ah* 
took in her improvement. Her last act, it may be said, as 
Queen Consort, was in the command for a ball of unequalled 
magnificence, given at St. James's Palace, on the 25th May, 1837, 
in honour of the Princess Victoria attaining her 18th year— 
that is, attaining that age when it became eligible for her at 
once to ascend the throne upon the demise of William IV. The 
festive entertainment was but the preliminary to the King's 
death, for, when it took place, he was already seized with his 
last fatal illness." 

The conduct of Queen Adelaide, during the last illness of the 
King has always been regarded as an exemplary instance ef 
conjugal love and devotion. Of this the best possible proofs 
are to be fonnd in a small volume printed for private cir- 
culation, being an Recount of the latter days of King William 
IV. The late Archbishop of Canterbury thus alludes to 
her conduct, so worthy of admiration, during the last illness ef 
her royal consort. "Three different times," said his grace, " waa 
I summoned to his presence the day before his dissolution. He 
received the Sacrament first ; on my second summons I read the 
Church Service to him; and the third time I appeared, the op- 
pression under which he laboured prevented him from joining 
outwardly in the service, though he appeared sensible of the con- 
solations which I read to him out of onr religions service. For 
three weeks prior to his dissolution, the Queen sat by his bedside, 
performing for him every office which a sick man could require, 
and depriving herself of all manner of rest and refection. She 
underwent labours which I thought no ordinary woman could 
endure. No language can do justice to her meekness, and to the 
calmness of mind which she sought to keep up before the King, 
while sorrow was preying on her heart. Such constancy of 
affection, I think, was one of the most interesting spectacles that 
could be presented to a mind desirous of being gratified with the 
sight of human excellence." 

His Majesty died on the 20th of June, 1837. He may be said 
to have died in her arms. 

" Hit Majesty died in a gentle sleep, his head resting upon the 
Queen's shoulder, and her Majesty's hand supporting his breast — 
a position which the Queen had maintained about an hour before 
her tual loss, and, indeed, during nearly all the King's hours of 
sleep for luc last fortnight of his Majesty's illness." — Jnmud 

AyiHW, P- W. 

By parlimentary grant, her Majesty, as Qweft D<rw*t«, tosse* 



entitled to the munificent sum Si £100,000 per annum, an income 
which enabled her to do much good, in accordance with her 
generous and benevolent disposition, and which she put it to a 
good and salutary use; but the sum was extravagant, and will 
never be again repeated. 

On account of her weak state of health, even before the death 
of the King, she found freqnent change of residence necessary. 
Soon after her accession to the throne, her Majesty visited her 
relatives in Germany, travelling under the title of the Duchess of 
Lancaster. For n long time after the King's death her Majesty 
suffered severely from an attack of bronchitis. This compelled 
her to go abroad, and she returned in 1839 ; the first visit that 
she paid upon her landing in England being to her Majesty Queen 
Victoria, in Buckingham Palace. In the autumn of the same 
year she enjoyed better health than she had for many years, and 
she visited several of the nobility at their country seats ; amongst 
others, the Earl of Denbigh, Earl Howe, and the Duke of Rut- 
land. She also visited the same year, Sir Robert Peel, at Dray- 
ton Manor. In 184* she paid another visit to her relatives in 

Germany. . 

In search of health she also went to Madeira and to Malta, 
both of which places her Majesty made her temporary residence. 
In the latter island she founded and endowed the beautiful church 
of Valetta. Her latter years were spent in England, and whilst 
the extent of her private benevolence was unknown, she contri- 
buted to almost every public charity, and to the funds of nearly 
all the societies engaged in the advancement of religion. It was 
her practice aura to subscribe largely to all the charities in every 
place where she happened, even for a time, to reside, especially 
to those of the parish of St. Martin, London, in which her town 
mansion is situated, the portals of which were opened once every 
season to receive her Majesty, when very few receptions took 
■place Her Majesty never remained long in her town mansion, 
as the state of her health prevented her from ever spending much 
time in London. The latter part of her life was one long dis- 
ease. Early last summer, while resident at Bushy Park, the in- 
cipient symptoms of dropsy manifested themselves. Tor change 
of air and scene she repaired first to Worthing, where she re- 
mained a fortnight, and afterwards went for a short time to Tun- 
bridge Wells. After a visit, while there, from the Queen and 
Prince Albert, Queen Adelaide returned, on the 28th of June, to 
Bushy Park. On the lat of September her Majesty and her 
household removed to Bentley Prior)-, near Stanmore, which she 
had engaged as her winter residence, where she breathed her last. 

The directions which she left for her funeral afford additional 
proof of the exalted piety and unfeigned humility of her late 
Majesty. They are also remarkable for the touching proof which 
they furnish of the respect she entertained for the memory of her 
rojal husband, in desiring that her body should be borne to the 
tomb by sailors. Her dying wishes were thus expressed : " I die 
in all humility, knowing well that we are all alike before the 
throne of God; and I request, therefore, that my mortal remain, 
be conveyed to the grave without any pomp or state. They are 
to be moved to St. George's Chapel, Windsor, where I request 
to have as private and quiet a funeral as possible. I particu- 
larly desire not to be laid out in state, and the funeral to take 
place in daylight, and no procession. The coffin to be carried 
by sailors to the chapel. All those of my friends and relations, 
to a limited number, whowish to attend me, todo so; my nephew, 
Prince Edward of Saxc Weimar, Lord Howe, and Lord Denbigh, 
the Rev. Mr. Wood, Sir Andrew Barnard, and Sir David Davies, 
with those of my ladies who may wish to attend. I die in peace, 
and wish to be carried to the tomb in peace, and free from the 
vanities and pomp of this world. I request not to be dissected 
or embalmed, and desire to give as little trouble as possible." 

On the 13th of December, 1849, the remains of Queen Ade- 
laide were consigned to the tomb, in the Royal Chapel of St. 
George, at Windsor.inthe simple and unostentatious manner which 
she herself expressly desired. Her blameless life, her many emi- 
nent virtues, and her munificent deeds of public and private charity, 
will long preserve her memory. As has been well remarked, the 
twelve years that have elapsed since the death of her royal hus- 
band were passed by Queen Adelaide in the most exemplary man- 
ner. The munificent grant which she enjoyed from the nation 
hasten munificently expended, not in an ostentatious splendour, 
which she declined, but in works of charity and religion that 
became well the widow of a British King, and will embalm her 
name with a quiet and unpretending, but lasting remembrance in 
the annals of the kings and queens of England. 

At his reridencc, 29, Portland Place, London, on the 23d 
December, in his 82d year, the Right Honourable Admiral Lord 
Colville, of CulrofS. He was the son of the 9th baron, by 
his marriage with Miss Webber. He was born in 1768, and 
entered the navy while young. He was present in Bodney's 
action, and served at the capture of the West India Islands in 
1794. In the expedition to Copenhagen in 1807, he commanded 
L'Hercule j and he attained the rank of Admiral of the White 
in February, 1847. He succeeded his father in 1810, and was 
one of the representative peers of Scotland, and an extra lord 
of the bed-chamber to Prince Albert. The deceased lord was 
twice married; first, in 1790, to Eliiabeth, daughter of the late 
Francis Ford, Esq., who died in 1839 ; and, second, in 18*1, to 
the Hen. Anne Law, third daughter of the late Lord Ellen- 
borough. He is succeeded in his title and estates by his 
nephew, who was born in 1818. 

On the 10th of December, at Pusey, the residence of his 
brother-in-law, in Wales, the Right Hon. Hon Geobgx 
Herbert, third Earl of Carnarvon, in his fiftieth year. He 
was the son of the second Earl, by the daughter of Colonel John 
Dyke Acland, of Killerton, Devonshire, and was born in London, 
on the 8th of June, 1800. When Lord Porchester, he made 
himself known as a traveller, a poet, and a dramatist. He was 
educated at Eton, and at Christ Church, Oxford, and in 1820 
he commenced his travels. While in Italy, in 1821, he witnessed 
the revolutions which took place there in that year, which Byron, 
in his " Vision of Judgment,'* calls " the first year of freedom's 
second dawn." Not long afterwards, he visited the Peninsula ; 
and, having taken an active part in favour of Don Carlos, he 
fell into the hands of the Christino party, with whom he re- 
mained for some time a prisoner. His lordship afterwards 
travelled through a considerable portion of Germany, and visited 
Morocco and other parts of Africa, as well as spent some time 
in Greece. On his return to England he published his travels 
and adventures in Portugal and Gallicia. He was also the 
author of a poem entitled "The Moor," and of a tragedy 
called " Don Pedro." In 1S30 he was elected M.P. for Wooton 
Basset, which he represented till his elevation to the Peerage, 
early in 1833. He distinguished himself in the House of Com- 
mons on the Conservative side ; and one of the speeches which 
he delivered against the Reform Bill was considered so effective 
by Sit R. Peel, that he declared he should be perfectly contented 
to rest the whole cause at issue upon the arguments contained 
in that single speech. But it required something more than 
the arguments of Lord Porchester, and of Sir Robert Peel, and 
all his party combined, to arrest the progress of reform. The 
only mistake was — and this was a mistake committed by the Whigs 
under Finality John — that that measure was considered the end, 
instead of the means to an end, or the beginning of the end; both 
phrases have an objectionable acceptation, the one on religious, and 
the other on political grounds. But our meaning by the word 
tod, in this instance, is the object and the necessity of all 
Governmental progress and improvement. On the death of his 
father, in April, 1833, he became Earl of Carnarvon, when he 
was removed to the Upper House, where there was less exercise 
for those peculiar talents with which he was gifted ; and, as he 
was a high Tory, perhaps there was the less regret. He had 
married, on the 4th of August, 1830, Henrietta Anna, eldest 
daughter of the late Lord Henry Molyneux Howard, neice of 
the late Duke of Norfolk, by whom he had a numerous issue. 
He is succeeded by his eldest son, Henry Howard liolyneux, 
Viscount Porchester — now in the 17th year of his age— the 
fourth Earl of Carnarvon. 

At London, on the 12th December, in his 81st year, Sir Hare 
Isambart Brunei, the celebrated engineer. He was the second 
son of Jean Charles Brunei, of Hacqeville, in Normandy, where 
Sir Isambart was born, in 1769. The family to which he be- 
longed have held that estate since the 12th century, and the name 
of Brunei is found constantly mentioned in the ancient archives 
of the province. He was first intended for the church, and sent 
at an early age to a seminary at Rouen, but he soon evinced io 
decided a predilection for the physical sciences, and so grot s 
genius for raathematics^ jte(i4ea of educating him for to, 



clerical profession wag toon abandoned. His father accordingly 
determined that he should join the naval service ; and, at the 
proper age he entered the navy of his country, being indebted 
for his appointment to the Mareschal de Castries, then the 
Minister of the French Marine. On one occasion he surprised 
his captain by producing a sextant and quadrant of his own 
construction, which he used for making observations. Ho made 
several voyages to the West Indies, and returned to Trance in 
1793, when the first terrible French Revolution was at its height. 
As he entertained Royalist opinions, which he was not very 
careful to conceal, his life was more than once in dauger, and, 
like many others at that time, he was forced to seek safety in 
flight. He emigrated to the United States, where he followed 
the natural bent of his genius, and adopted the profession of a 
civil engineer. He was first engaged to survey a large tract of 
land near Lake Erie. He was afterwards employed in building 
the Bowery Theatre in New York, which not many years ago was 
burnt down. He furnished plans for canas, and for various 
machines connected with a cannon foundry, then in course of 
being established in the State of New York. About the year 
1799 he had matured his plans for making ship blocks by ma- 
chinery. He had fled from a Republic to take refuge in a 
Republic ; but he achieved his greatest triumphs under a 
monarchy. Finding America not the proper field for him, he 
determined upon visiting England, and offering his services to 
the British Government. Lord Spencer, then First Lord of the 
Admiralty, became his friend, and he was a frequent guest at 
Spencer House. From this time he continued to reside con- 
stantly in England. After much opposition to his plans, he 
was employed to execute them in Portsmouth dockyard. To 
perfect his designs, and to erect the machinery, was the arduous 
labour of many years. With a trne discrimination, he selected 
Mr. Henry Maudslay to assist in the execution of the work, and 
thus was laid the foundation of perhaps the most extensive engi- 
neering establishments in the kingdom. The block machinery 
was finished in 1806, and has continued ever since to supply 
our fleets with blocks of a very superior description, at a large 
annual saving to the public. It was estimated at the time that 
the saving in the first year amounted to £-24,000 per annum, and 
about two-thirds of that sum were awarded to Mr. Brunei. A 
few years afterwards he was employed by Government to erect 
saw-mills, upon a new principle, in the dockyards of Chatham 
and Woolwich. He was also the constructor of many other 
works of great public utility. But his greatest achievement was 
the Thames Tunnel, which was commenced in 1824, a company 
having been formed, and the project supported by the Duke of 
Wellington, who took, from first to last, a deep interest in the 
work. The progress of this great undertaking was stopped 
more than once by the breaking in of the river; and the ex- 
hausted finances of the company, which never extended beyond 
the command of £180,000, put a suspension to the work for 
many years. By a special Act of Parliament a loan was sanc- 
tioned — the Exchequer Loan Commissioners advanced the re- 
quisite funds — and this stupendous and magnificent work was at last 
finished, and opened to the public in 1843. In 1841, during 
Lord Melbourne's administration, Mr. Bmnel received the 
honour of knighthood, on the recommendation of Lord Spencer, 
then Lord Al thorp. He was a vice-president of the Royal 
Society, a corresponding member of the Institute of France, and 
a vice-president of the Institution of Civil Engineers — he was 
also a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour. He died in his 81st 
year, after a long illness, which first visited him soon after the 
completion of the Thames Tunnel. He had married in 1790 
the daughter of William Kingdom, Esq., of Plymouth ; and 
besides his widow, he has left one son, the eminent engineer, 
and two daughters — the eldest married to Mr. Hawes, Under- 
Secretary of State for the Colonies; and the youngest to the 
Rev. Mr. Harrison, vicar of New Brentford. 


At Hong Kong, on the 28th October, of apoplexy, Rear-Ad- 
miral Sir Francis Augustas Collier, C.B., Commander-in-Chief 
of kcr Majesty's naval force in the East. He was the third son 
of the late Vice- Admiral Sir George Collier, K.B. He entered 
the navy in 1798, under the immortal Nelson, on board the Van- 
guard, and was present, as a midshipman, at the battle of the 
Nik. He was midshipman of the Foudroyant, at the capture of 

the Generenx and Guillaume Tell, when he was wounded, and 
landed in Egypt. As lieutenant of the Osprey, he served on 
shore at the taking of St. Lucia and Tobago; and when in charge 
of a prize, with 15 men, he captured a privateer of one gnn and 
45 men. He distinguished himself in a gallant action with 
L'Egyptienne, French privateer of 36 guns, and subsequently 
captured Le Trcmeuse, French schooner. While commanding the 
Circe, assisted by the Amaranths and Stork, he destroyed the 
Cygne, French brig-of-war of 18 guns, and two armed schooners, 
under the batteries of Martinique, in 1S08. For this he was 
promoted to his post rank in December of that year. In 1809, 
he commanded the Star, in the operations against Martinique. 
In 1S15 he was made a Companion of the Bath. In 1819 he 
was Commodore of the successful expedition against the pirates of 
the Persian Gulf, and was Commodore and Commander-in-Chief 
on the coast of Africa from 1827 to 1830, during which period 
36,000 slaves were released. He was appointed a naval aide-de- 
camp in 1S32, and in 1833 was created a Knight Commander of 
the order of the Guelphs of Hanover. In 1838 he was nomi- 
nated to " a good service pension," and appointed Commissioner 
of the Pembroke Dockyard in December, 1841. He became 
Resr-Admiral of the White in 1848. The mercantile commu- 
nity were under great obligations to Sir Francis Collier for the 
ready protection which he at all times afforded to British com- 
merce; and an address was handed to him only a few days before 
his death, thanking him for the energy displayed by him in the 
extirpation of piracy in the Chinese seas. 

At Naples, on the 18th December, Sir Thomas Gibson Car- 
miehael, Bart.,of Skirlingand Castle Craig.Peebleshire, and Hailes' 
House, Edinburghshire. Hs»as the son of the eighth baronet, 
and was born in 177S. Hisprandfather was John Gibson, Esq, 
of Dnrie. He succeeded in 1803, on the death of his brother, 
the ninth baronet, who assumed the name of Carmichael. He 
was a deputy-lieutenant of Peebles-shire, and was twice married, 
first to Janet, daughter of the late Major-General Dundas, of 
Fingask; and secondly, in June, 1816, to the Hon. Anne 
Napier, daughter of Francis, eighth Lord Napier. He is suc- 
ceeded by his eldest son, now Sir Alexander Gibson Carmichael, 
bom in 1812. 

At Malvern, on the 24th December, Patrick Eraser Tytler, 
Esq., advocate, author of the History of Scotland, Lives of 
Scottish Worthies, and other works. He was a Fellow of the 
Royal Society, and a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries. By 
his death a literary pension reverts to the Crown. The intelli- 
gence of his death reached us as our last sheets were going to 
press. We shall give a memoir of him next month. 


At Argilt Hill, near Barnslcy, on the 1st December, Ebenezer 
Elliott, the celebrated corn-law rhymer. He was born at Mas- 
brongh, near Rotherham, in Yorkshire, on the 17th March, 1781, 
and was one of eight children. His father was a clerk in the 
iron-works at Mnsbrough, with a salary of £70 a-year, and, con- 
sequently, as the poet remarked to Mr. Howitt, " a rich man in 
those days." At school, he was an absolute dunce, and showed 
great inaptitude to learn the most ordinary lessons, particularly 
arithmetic. Of his early life little is known but what ha 
himself has communicated. As a well-known, and always wel- 
come and distinguished contributor to Taift Magcuiae, as well as 
on account of his own genius, and the distinction to which ha 
attained as a poet, we deem it proper to give as full a memoir of 
him as we can, and in doing so we shall avail ourselves of all 
the contemporary notices and other materials which have come 
under our observation. 

Iu 1840, the Rev. Jacob Brettel, of Rotherham, one of 
Ebenezer Elliott's earliest literary friends, delivered a series of 
lectures on his life and poetry, in the course of which ha 
introduced the following interesting account of the poet's early 
days, written by himself in the third person, as the composition 
of another. The world is always anxious to know all about the 
birth, parentage, education, and youthful habits and pursuits of 
its great men, patted away; and no one could depict hit own 



deficiencies and shortcomings as i boj »nd u a youth, with the 
feelings and regrets arising therefrom, more truly or more acutely 
than the poet himself. Thus runs the record of his early years : — 
" Ebeneter Elliott, iu childhood, hoyhood, and youth, was re- 
markable for good nature, as it is called, and a sensitiveness ex- 
ceeded only by his extreme dullness and inability to learn any- 
thing that required the least application or intellect. His good na- 
tmemade him rather a favourite in his childhood with servant-girls, 
nurses, and old women. One of the latter was a particular fa- 
vourite with him — Nanny Far, who kept the (York Kcelmnn) pub- 
lie-house, near the Foundry, at Masbrough, where he was born. 
She was a walking magazine of old English prejudices and super- 
stitions. To owed his fondues? for ghost stories. When 
he was about ten years old, he fell in love with a young girl, 
now Mrs. Woodcock, of Munsbcr, near Greasbrougb, to whom 
he never to this day spoke one word. She then lived with her 
father, Mr. Bidgeway, a butcher and publican, close to tho bridge, 
on the Masbrough side of the river Bon. Such was his sensitive- 
ness, that if lie happened to see her as he passed, and especially 
if she seemed to look at him (which he now believes she never 
did), he was suddenly deprived almost of the power of moving. 
He describes the effect produced on him by comparing it to that 
produced on a greyhound, when pnrsued by a mastiff, wliich 
strains his tail between his legs, and, instead of being urged to 
speed by his terror, is chained by it, and compelled, as it were, 
to lift the earth at every step. [There was nothing very strik- 
ing or singular about this ' calf-love' of Elliott's. It is only 
what almost every boy, whether poeticsllygiftcdor not.fcels towards 
some partisular fair specimen of girlhood, as lie approaches the 
boundary of his boyish years.] His unconquerable dullness was 
improved into absolute stupidity by the help he received from an 
uncommonly clever boy, named John Boss, who did him his sums. 
He got into the rule of three withorafciaving learned numeration, 
addition, subtraction, and division. Old Joseph Itnmsbotham, 
seemed quite convinced — gave him up in despair ; and at rule of 
three the bard jumped all at once to decimals, where he stuck. 
At this time, he was examined by his father, who discovered that 
the boy scarcely knew that two and one are three. He was then 
put to work in the foundry, on trial whether hard labour would 
not induce him to learn his ' counting,' as arithmetic is called in 
Yorkshire. Now, it happened that nature, in her vagaries, had 
given him a brother, called Giles, of whom it will be said by any 
person who knew him, that never was there a young person of 
quicker or brighter talents. There was nothing which he could 
not learn ; but the praise he received ruined him in the end. His 
superiority produced no envy in Ebcnezer, who almost worshipped 
him. The only effect it produced on him was a sad sense of 
humiliation, and a confirmed conviction that he himself was an 
incurable dunce. The sense of his deficiencies oppressed him, 
and in private he wept bitterly. When he saw Giles seated in 
the counting-house, writing invoices, or posting the ledger ; or 
when he came dirty out of the foundry, and saw Giles showing 
his drawings, or reading aloud to the circle, whose plaudits seemed 
to have no end, his resource was solitude, of wliich, from his 
infancy, he was fond; he would go and fly his kite, always alone, 
and he was the best kite-maker of the place ; or he would saunter 
along the canal bank, swimming his ships, or anchoring them be- 
fore his fortresses — and he was a good shipbuilder— [just what a 
thousand children would have done under similar cirenmstances.] 
His sadness increased; he could not post books ; he could not 
write invoices ; he could not learn to do what almost any hoy 
could learn, namely, to do a sum in single division ; yet, by this 
time he hail discovered that he could do 'men's work,' for he 
could make a frying-pan. It ought to be observed here, that the 
assistance he received from John Boss accompanied him, like his 
double, to every school to which his parents, in their despair, had 
sent him, and they bod sent him to two, besides Mr. Bams- 
botham's. When it was found that he could not do decimals, he 
was put back to the rule of three, and then pronounced incurable. 
Labour, however, and the honour paid to his brother, at length 
made him try one effort more. He had an aunt in Masbrough, 
one of whose sons was studying botany. He was buying, in 
monthly numbers, a book called ' Sowerby's English Botany,' 
with beautiful coloured plates. They Ailed him with delight ; and 
she showed him that, by holding the plates before a pane of glass, 
he might take exact sketches of them. Dunce though he was, he 
found he could draw, and, with such ease, that he almost thought 
he was a magician. He became a botanist, or rather a hunter 
of flowers; but, like his cousin Ben (though not Greek-leaned 

like him), he too had his 'Hortui Siccus.' Ha does not re 
member having ever read, or liked, or thought of poetry, unti 
he heard his brother recite that passage in ' Thomson's Spring ' 
wliich describes the polyanthus and auricula. His first attempt 
at poetry was au imitation in rhyme of Thomson's Thunder storm, 
in wliich he describes a certain flock of sheep running away after 
they were killed by lightning ! Now this came to pass because 
the rhyme would have it so. His critic-cousin Ben, the learned, 
though the bard most imploringly told him how the miracle hap- 
pened, nevertheless exercised the critic's privilege, and ridiculed 
him without mercy. Never will he forget that infliotion. His 
second favourite author was Shenstone, whose translations of pas- 
sages from the classics, prefixed to his elegies, produced an effect 
on his mind and heart wliich death only cau obliterate. Hie 
next favourite was Milton, who slowly gave way to Shakspearc. 
He can trace nil his literary propensities to physical causes. His 
mind, he says, is altogether the mind of his own eyes. A prim- 
rose is to him a primrose, and nothing more ; for Solomon in 
his glory was not mure delicately arrayed. [This thought was 
evidently suggested by Wordsworth's lines : — 

" ' A primrose l-y a river's brim, 
A yellow primrose was to hlin, 

And it was nothing more.'] 

There is not a good passage in his writing which he cannot 
trace to some real occurrence, or to some object actually before 
his eyes, or to some passage in some other author. He has the 
power, he says, of m.iking the thoughts of other men breed; 
and he is fond of pointing out four or five passages in his poems, 
nil stoleu from one passage in Cowper's Homer. When he be- 
came a poet, he iils.i became more and more ashamed of his 
deficiencies. He actually tried to learn French, and could with 
ease get his lesson, but could never remember it an hour. Nor 
could he e\er write correctly, until he met with Murray's Gram- 
lunr, which he learned at the wrong end, (namely, the Key,) and 
never reached the beginning. To this day, he does not tho- 
roughly know a single rule, of grammar ; yet, by thinking, he 
can detect any grammatical errors. If he errs, it is in the ap- 
plication of words derived from the Latin or Greek, which, 
although he has a strong propensity to use them, he now avoids, 
unless they are very melodious, or harmonise with the Saxon, 
and seldom without consulting his dictionary, that he may guess 
at their meaning, lie has more thou once shown bis fondness 
for learned words, by begging Latin and Greek quotations, for 
his prefaces end nules. But his propensity to use fine words will 
be still better elucidated by the following anecdote: — Having 
written a sonorous poem iu blank verse, on the American Bevo? 
lution, he wished for a learned title. He wished to call it 
' Liberty,' so his learned cousin baptised it in Greek, by the 
name of ' Eleutheria;' but tho bard, having found out that 
' Eleutheria' also signifies fire, humbled himself to Latin, ex- 
punged the Greek, and wrote in place of it, ' Jus Triumphant.' 
lie then read Johnson's Dictionary through, and selected several 
dozen words (fifty-three he believes) of sii and seven syllables, 
which he wrote on a slip of paper, and pasted over his verses, 
where they would smn and read grammatically I In this state 
the manuscript was sent to Whitbread, the brewer, who returned 
it with a flourishing compliment ; and if it is in existence, cer- 
tainly it is a curiosity that a bibliographer would place in his cabi- 
net. The ' Vernal Walk,' his first publication, was written in 
his seventeenth year. He afterwards improved the rough verses 
into bombast, and then printed them.' " 

To tho readers of Taift Magaz'mt the name of Ebeneier 
Elliott is familiar as a household word. Besides contributing 
many of his best pieces for years to this periodical, he furnished, 
to its pages, in 1840, an interesting sketch, principally regarding 
himself, entitled, "llandom Thoughts and Beiuiuisccnc«s,by the 
Corn-Law Bhymer :" it will lie found in the number for July of 
that year. In the number for the May previous, there is in- 
serted a graphically -written prose piece from his pen, entitled, 
" Defence of Modern Poetry," intended for the Sheffield Me- 
chanics' Institution ; but we are not aware if it was ever delivered. 

Notwithstanding his deficiencies in arithmetic, Mr. Elliott's 
mind was peculiarly of a practical as well as of a poetical cast. 
The placing him in the foundry at the very juvenile aga at 
which that event took place, had a most important influence on 
his after life. He early resolved to be in business for himself, 
and first commenced on his own account in the town of Bother- 
bam. He did not succeed, however, and in 1821, when forty 
yaar. of age, h. went to Sheffield, and with a capital of «00 



of borrowed money, lie commenced business again, as a bar-iron 
merchant. At this time he was married and had a young fa- 
mily growing up around him. After much exertion and endur- 
ance, and the exercise of great prudence, fortune began to fa- 
Tonr him. The rapid rise of prices which took place soon after 
his settlement in Sheffield, enabled him to sell the iron in his 
warehouse for twice its original cost. His superior intelligence 
and business habits were well known ; and at one time, so suc- 
cessful were his operations, that, as he told Mr. Howitt, he used 
to sit in his chair and make his £30 a-day, without even seeing 
the iron he sold; for it came to the wharf, and was sold again 
thence without ever coming into his warehouse, or under his 
eye. In reality, a very small portion of his life was spent in 
manual labour. As a merchant, his dealings came to be exten- 
sive, and, in the long-run, successful. Trade and literature, in 
spite of the common but mistaken idea, are not incompatible 
with each other, and Ebenezer Elliott has furnished an example 
that a successful poet may also be an enterprising and prosperous 

His first warehouse, it may prove interesting to future bio- 
graphers and admirers to know, was in Burgess Street, which is 
now shown to strangers as one of the " sights" of Sheffield. 
When his business had increased, he removed to Gibraltar Street, 
Shalesmoor. In the suburbs of Upper Thorpe he built a hand- 
some "villa for his private residence. Although he achieved a 
fortune at his business, he yet had his losses, and he was ulti- 
mately glad to get out of trade with part of his gains. The 
great panic of 1837 swept away some £4000 worth of his pro- 
perty. His counting-house was adorned with the figures of 
Ajax and Achilles ; and among the massive bars winch enclosed 
him, be wrote his poetry, nnder the shadow of Shakespeare, and 
Raleigh, and the classic heroes of antiquity already named. 

In the article in Tait't Magaiine for July, 1840, above referred 
to, there occurs the following passage : — " I do not remember 
the time when I was not dissatisfied with the condition of society. 
Without ever envying any man his wealth or power, I have al- 
ways wondered why the strong oppress the weak." This fur- 
nishes an index to UU whole character, and was the main motive 
of his strongest and boldest effusions of poetry. The Corn Laws 
stirred the depths of his spirit, and he wrote against them in 
verse, with all the fervour and indignation of his earnest mind. 
He had been educated in the school of labour, and his views and 
his writings partook of the sternness of his experience. His ad- 
miration, and his study, such as it was, of Thomson, Shenstone, 
Milton, and Shakspeare, did not, in the slightest degree, tend to 
refine his mind. His genius was great, but his taste was deficient. 
The harshness of some of his expressions in his Corn-Law 
rhymes could only be equalled by the daring boldness of his ap- 
peals to the Deity on the subject of the bread-tax, now removed 
from the statute book of our country. Many who were dis- 
posed to admire the beauty aud fervour of his lines, were shocked 
at the dubious taste and seeming profanity which sometimes dis- 
figured the passionate and burning emanations of his muse. His 
sympathy for the working-classes led him away, in the ardour of 
his feelings, to the use of phrases and sentiments, which on any 
other subject he would have considered unpardonable and un- 
necessary. There can be no doubt that he is entitled to the 
praise of being the pioneer to the Corn-Law League ; and his 
work being done when that active and influential combination 
was formed, he took but little personal part in their proceedings, 
although he still continued to aid the cause by his writings. 

He was at all times an ardent politician, and a Radical in the 
extreme meaning of the word. At one period he supported 
Chartist views. Ia September, 1838, he attended a conference 
in London, and in the same month he presided at a Chartist 
meeting in Sheffield ; but the opposition of the Chartist party at 
Anti-Cora-Law meetings, and their violent and desperate pro- 
ceedings, soon completely disgusted him, and about the begin- 
ning of 1840, he withdrew himself entirely from them. While 
the fit was on him, however, he had become bail for a person of 
the name of Peter Foden, who had been arrested for sedition in 
August, 1839 ; and as the said Foden deemed it advisable to ab- 
scond, Mr. Elliot had to pay for his indiscretion, in thus back- 
ing such a specimen of the party. The repeal of the Corn-Law 
was his master object ; and he got up a local society fer pro- 
moting this object, which was formed, flourished, decayed, and 
died, long before the great Anti-Corn-Law League commenced 
its operations. 

Mr. Elliott's first published work was "The Vernal Walk," 
when he was seventeen years of age. It was printed by Mr. 
Flower, of Cambridge, and in the last edition of his works, he 
says of this juvenile, performance : — " It ia now printed as origi- 
nally written. All my local and domestic critics made it the butt 
for ridicule, before its publication ; and it was frightfully casti- 
gated, on its first appearance in print, by ono of the dispensers of 
public praise and blame. Why then reprint it? Because it is 
endeared to me by the persecution it has suffered. The idiot of 
the family is sometimes a favonrite ; and Byron doggedly wrote 
dramas because he was told he could not write them." 

His next publication was " Night," of which only a portion has 
been republished under the name of the "Legend of WharnclifTe." 
" Love," with another poem, and a letter to Lord Byron, appeared 
in 1803, nine years before his "Corn-Law Rhymes" were pub- 
lished. Elliott's early publications were all doomed to severe cen- 
sure, and nothing but a consciousness of his own inuate powers 
could have carried hira forward in his poetical career. " Night " 
was unmercifully abused in the Monthly Review, then one of the 
principal oracles of literary criticism, and the Monthly Mag/nine. 
"The Tales of Night," comprising "Bothwell," "The Exile," 
" Second Nuptials," &c, followed, but did not succeed. His 
spirit was roused by the condemnation which the critics had passed 
upon his former work ; and he prefixed to his " Tales " a most 
defiant preface in reply to the reviewers, under the name of a let- 
ter from " Peter Faultless to his brother Simon." Sonlhey, with 
whom he was at that time in communication, wrote to him the" 
consolatory assurance that " There is power in the least of these 
tales, but the higher you pitch your tone the better you succeed. 
Thirty years ago they would have made your reputation , thirty 
years hence the world will wonder that they did not do so." They 
are already all but forgotten. The " Corn-Law Rhymes" were what 
first made the name of Ebenezer Elliott known far and wide, and 
will preserve it in the list of English poets, when most of nil 
early publications, and even the " Corn-Law Rhymes " them- 
selves, are remembered only by their nnmes. 

He made eager efforts for fame; but none of his piece* 
previous to his " Corn-Law Rhymes," had the effect of bringing 
him into notice. He even had recourse to satire for this pur- 
pose. Among other things of this kind, he published a piece 
called " The Giaour," being a vehement attack on Lord Byron, 
intended to provoke his lordship to take some notice of him ; but 
it is very likely that the noble poet never saw this unamiable 
production, or that he despised it if he did, for the author was 
never honoured in any way by his recognition. 

The strong vein of indignation, the fervent warmth of the poetry, 
and the resolute spirit for which " the Corn-Ijiw Rhymes" were re- 
markable, had done but little to give hira anythingmore than a mere 
local reputation ; when their merits came under the notice of Dr. 
Bowring, and Mr. Bnlwer, now Sir Edward Bulwer Lylton, who 
straightway set themselves to make these wonderful emanations of 
a strong; but uncultivated genins, extensively known to the public. 
The "Cmi-Law Rhymes" and "The Ranter" wore published 
in one volume, which was noticed in the Eclectic and Blaclxood. 
It appears that in 1830, or 1831 Dr. Bowring being on a visit 
to T. A. Ward, Esq., of Sheffield, was shown this volume, and 
approving highly of its merits, was introduced by Mr. Ward to 
Mr. Elliott. On his way to London, he visited Mr. W. Howitt, 
who then resided at Nottingham, where he met Wordsworth, to 
whom he mentioned both Elliott and his poems. When he re- 
turned to the metropolis, he showed the work to Bulwer, who, in 
an anonymous letter in the AVw Monthly Magazine, addressed to 
Dr. Southey, and dated March 19, 1631, introduced Elliott's name 
and Free Trade poetry honourably to the literary world. The 
author was styled "a mechanic," and his extraordinary energy, 
and eloquence, and power, were spoken of in high terms; 
but at this time Mr. Elliott was a prosperous merchant, and 
could in no sense be considered a mechanic. There can 
be no doubt that his being represented as belonging to the 
working classes, and endowed with the qualities which he pos- 
sessed so highly, and which were so emphatically dwelt upon, 
was one of the main causes of his poems being taken up so patro- 
nisingly by such a man as Bnlwer. We are not very sure if a 
person of talent among what is usually styled the educated classes, 
would have received from him the same high eulogiums. Ebenezer 
Elliott's claims on the admiration of his countrymen, could not 
fail to have been sooner or later acknowledged, whether Bulwer 
Wii»t«rfcre4inhi,l^or t not dby ( 



The e*rrent, however, being thui directed towards the Coin- 
law Rhymer, it is astonishing how strongly the tide at last 
flowed in his favour. He was considered a perfect prodigy; and 
Miss Jewsbury, Mrs. Holland, and others of that class of writers, 
in contemporary publications, extolled him as a greater poet than 
Burns and Byron in all their glory. Elliott's mtritaare hia own, 
and no one alio can appreciate true poetry, will ever deny 
him the gennine distinction of a true ixiet, but it cannot 
serve any good purpose to arro«atc for him more than »hat he is 
absolutely entitled to; and Mrs. Uollai.d, when, in an article on 
" Sheffield and its poets," she thus » rote, " It is at least certain 
Burns never equalled, and liyron never exceeded him, in these 
particular qnalitics.wlirrcin h,th hav been dcec.ed admirable," 
•how ed that she, at least, knew little or nothing of what "those 
particular qualities" are, and that her friendship for £lliot was 
the ground of hia preference in her mind over Burn?. 

Mr. EHiott's collected poems appeared in three volumes, pnh- 
lishcd successively in 1^33, JbS-lr, and 1K.3. In the preface to 
the latter volume he expressed himself as " sufficiently rewarded 
if his poetry had led one poor despairing victim of misrule from 
the alehouse to the fields ; if he had been chosen of God to show 
his desolated heart that though his wrongs have been heavy, and 
hit fall deep, and though the spoiler is yet abroad, still in the 
green hues of England the printrc-c is blowing, and on the 
mountain top the lonely fir is pointing with her many lingers 
to our Father in Heaven." Another edition of his poems, 
in one volume, was published in 1840. for many years his 
most popular and esteemed pieces were contributed to TaW i ila- 
gadne; he also occasionally iuserted poems in the local prints, 
particularly the Sheffield Indepetiilent and the Sheffield Trie. 

Mr. Elliott retired from business in 1841. Leaving Sheffield, 
he spent his last years at Great Houghton, near Barnsley, where 
he built a house on a small estate of bis own. He there de- 
voted much of his time to rural engagements, and abandoned 
all artive interference in politics, in which he had once taken 
so prominent a part. His last illness was of some weeks' 
duration, and was attended with extreme pain. A very affecting 
incident took plate towards the close of his life. The marriage 
of his daughter to John Wntkins, Est]., of Claphani, had been 
fixed for Christmas ; but Mr. Elliott « as anxious that it should 
ho solemnised during his life, and it therefore took place on the 
17th November, a fortnight before his death. When the newly- 
married pair left Argilt Hill, Mr. Elliott was raised up in bed to 
see them pass the window, and desired that be might be buried 
at Hatfield Church, where his daughter had been married. Ac- 
cording to his wish, the funeral was of a strictly private cha- 
racter. Besides a widow and two daughters, he has left five 
sons, of whom two. conduct the iron and steel business, and two 
are clergymen of the Church of England. 

A love of truth and a hatred of oppression arc the ruling 
principles of Ebeeexer Elliot's political poems. In hia hearty 
vindication of the rights of man, he had the spirit if he bad 
not always the power of Burns, and a Crabbe-like skill and 
grnpluc earnestness in depicting the political and social miseries of 
the poor. His frequent nnd cou6tant use of the strongest ex- 
pressions with which the English language conld furnish him, 
rendered them to many parsons highly repulsive, and caused him 
to be decried as a poet by others, whose souls are ever awake 
to the troth and beauty of real poetry. In these, as in his 
other productions, he wrote from genuine feelings and impulses, 
and was not particular as to the phraseology used for the con- 
veyance of his sentiments. 

As a descriptive poet he stands upon far higher ground. Na- 
tural beauty had ever a predominant claim upon bis affections, 
and hit genius has hallowed the hills and valleys, the rivers and 
moors, around Sheffield, in words of immortal eloquence, which 
will endear his name to that district as long as its native scenery 

At the time of his death, Mr. Elliot was occupied in collecting 
for the press an enlarged edition of hit poems. 

The following obituary notice waa intended for hut month's 
Magazine : — 

At Tort, on the 13th November, of disease of the heart, 
William Etty, Esq., Boyal Academician, one of the most eminent 
of modern English artists. He was born at York, on the 10th 
of March, 17S7 ; and, like Rembrandt and Constable, he was the 
son of a miller, who also carried on business as a^ confectioner. 
Almost before he was able to walk, ho " had developed a taste for 
art, by scribbling designs in chalk on the floor, tables, and walls 
of his home." He says, himself ," My first panels on which I 
drew were the boards of my father's shop floor, and my first crayon 
a farthing's worth of white chalk." His parents were singularly 
Mind to the bent of bis genius. Before he was twelve years of 
sj;r, he was bound apprentice to the printing business, at Hull, 
with the late Mr. Robert Peek, upon the Bull Packet; and he 
served out bis seven years faithfully, although the occupation of 
a letter-press printer was altogether uncongenial to him. Soma 
of the rough sketches and draught! which he attempted during, 
ibis time have been preserved, and afford abundant evidence of 
a skilful bat d in drawing, the hues being remarkable for their 
freedom, decision, and accuracy. On the expiry of his appren- 
ticeship the natural bias of his mind became irresistible, and he 
determined to be a painter instead of a printer. To make up for 
lost time, he went to London, being enabled to do so by the 
aid of an uncle, a merchant in Lombard Street, who subsequently 
bequeathed to him, by will, a legacy of £1,000. Hia power as 
a eolourist soon began to be noticed, and, throughout his pro- 
fessional career it was the most distinguished element of hit 
success. His ruling and predominating feeling was for the beau- 
tiful and subiiine, as evinced in the whole range of his immortal 
pictures. Well do we remember the effect of hia "Judith and 
Hulofernes," in the exhibition of the Scottish Academy, at Edin- 
burgh, twenty years ago. ' Soon after his arrival in London, he 
obtained an introduction to Opie, and through him to Fuseli, to 
both of whom he ever acknowledged his obligations for their en- 
couragement of his earlier efforts, and their advice. He was for 
twelve months a pnpil in the studio of Sir Thomas LawTcnce, whom 
he mentions as his "beloved master." In 1822 he proceeded to 
Italy, and, with the pnrtiah'ty of a eolourist, felt most at home in 
Venice. At Rome, we arc told, he partook of Reynolds' admira- 
tion for Michael Angelo, and waa wont to relate how he made 
sketches of the Sextine Chapel in the blank leave* of his Italian 
Grammar. He also visited Florence, and made a careful copy of 
Titian's "Venus," in the Tribune of that city. Such was the 
fidelity of its execution, that Wilkie, on beholding it, exclaimed 
that it would astonish our colourists. Etty's first picture, after 
his return from Italy in 1824, " Pandora" formed by Vulcan," 
which he painted in a few weeks, and for which the Boyal Aca- 
demy elected him an associate, waa purchased by his old master, 
Sir Thomas Lawrence. During the French Revolution of July, 
leSO, he waa in Paris, and he somewhat humorously described hia 
sensations at the visit of a shell while studying in the gallery of 
the Louvre. His pencil was very prolific, and the large prices 
which he received for his pictures enabled him to realise a con- 
siderable fortune. He died worth forty thousand pounds. Hia 
residence in London was in Buckingham Street, Adelphi ; but 
of late years he had retired to his native city, York. The ex. 
hibition of all his principal pictures that could be got together 
a few months ago, in London, was an event the most flattering to 
bis feelings and ambition at the close of his career. Personally, 
Etty waa qniet and unassuming, and possessed of an amiable and 
kindly disposition. Remembering his own early hardships and 
struggles, he ever showed himself a friend to young artists of 
promise and talent. His peculiar excellence as a painter was in 
depicting the human figure. His flesh tinta are unrivalled for 
their truthful and life-like character. He was the last evidence, 
says a writer in a metropolitan newspaper, which bound painting, 
in the present day, to the glories of the olden time ; for his name 
associates itself, as by a link of brotherhood, with those of Paolo 
Veronese, Corregio, and Titian. 


Digitized by 



FEBRUARY, 1850, 



"Land of the whirlpool— torrent — foira, 
Where oceans meet in maddening shock; 
The beetling cliff— the shelving holm— 

The dark insidious rock ; 
Land of the bleak, the treeless moor — 
The sterile mountain, sered and riven ; 
The shapeless cairn — the rained tower, 

Scathed by the bolts of Heaven : 
The yawning golph — the treacherous sand, 
I love thee still, my native land." 

Two hundred and thirty-four years have elapsed 
since Patrick Stewart, the once potent Earl of Orkney, 
and Lord of Zetland, finished his ignominious eareer 
at the Market Cross of Edinburgh, by the hands of the 
common executioner, for manifold injuries, tyranny, 
and atrocious oppressions, practised by him on the 
unoffending inhabitants of these remote isles ; yet 
this man's name is as familiar in the minds and 
mouths of the denizens of the Northern Archipelago 
to this day, as if his " heid had been strukkin frame 
his body" only a decade or two since. He has 
acquired an inauspicious celebrity — a sinister kind of 
immortality — compared with which, " dumb forgetful- 
nets " were to be implored, and oblivion coveted. Who 
or what the aborigines of these islands were, previous to 
the latter part of the ninth century, it were in vain to 
inquire ; suffice it to say, that the invincible vikingr,- 
or sea-rovers from the Norwegian fiords, under the 
far-famod Harold Haarfager,* took possession of, and 
colonized them. Their laws were the very essence of 
freedom, and these they carried with them into what- 
soever country they conquered. The monarch of the 
parent State entrusted the government of these newly 
acquired colonies to chiefs, or relations of his own, 
under the title of earls, with a feudal dependence on 
his Crown ; yet their authority was only seemingly 
respeoted, and that from political motives. But, al- 

•This was tbe famous monarch who, by bis transcen- 
dent skill as a great military leader, and his pradenoe 
and sagaoity as a statesman, first combined the various 
tribes, among whom Norway was divided, into one nation, 
by reducing their Kings, or Jarls, to a state of vassalage. 
Every oircamstanoo connected with the youth of Harold 
has been carefully preserved by the Skalds. Dreams and 
prodigies augured nis future greatness; the giant Dofre 
taught him the military art, and, at the age of ten, when he 
lost his father ( a,d. 863), ho bad the reputation of surpass- 
ing all his contemporaries in beauty, courage, wisdom, and 
warlike accomplishments. Moreover, there was a lady in 
the ease. We are informed by Tortious, that Harold hav- 
ing fallen deeply in love with Bagna, the beautiful daughter 
oi i neighbouring chief, tbe haughty beauty refused him 
her hand until he had signalized his prowess as a warrior, 
and conquered a realm a* extensive as Sweden or Denmark. 
vol. xvu, — Ht, oxciv. 

though the Norwegian treasury may not have been 
greatly augmented by the direct tribute flowing from 
these newly acquired colonies, yet they became in- 
valuable to the parent monarchy, which subsisted by 
rapine and piracy — whose sea-kings were familiar with 
victory, and inured to blood, whose raven-banners 
floated on every gale, whose war-galleys covered 
every sea, and whose very name carried alarm and 
terror into half the States of Europe. 

The geographical position of these islands, at the 
junction of the Atlantic with the German Ocean, 
served admirably as harbours of refuge for the in- 
numerable war-ships that constantly roamed over the 
great waters. Fleets might there be repaired — men 
and munitions of war might be embarked with safety 
and speed — thence predatory excursions, and expedi- 
tions of national magnitude and importance, might 
issue at the proper time; and, advantage having been 
taken of the critical moment, success, as a matter of 
course, followed. Hence the reduction of the Hebrides, 
the Isle of Man, and a large portion of Ireland. Nay, 
some of the Scandinavian historians go the length of 
asserting that Harald Haarfager conquered the whole 
country north of the Grampians. Hordes of the 
warrio'r -Northmen migrated from time to time; and 
thus these islands formed a nursery then, as they have 
ever been, for skilful and hardy seamen. Possessing 
dauntless hearts and sharp brands, this insular 
brotherhood, for many ages, bade defiance to oppres- 
sion from within and tyranny from without, acknow- 
ledging, and barely acknowledging, fealty to the parent 
power, who, in many instances, had enough, and more 
than enough to do, to avert the evils of disputed 
succession, foreign aggression, and the lawless and 
tumultuous outbursts of capricious and powerful chiefs, 
who, tired of law and order, seemed only to be in their 
proper element amidst the bray of battle and the 
collision of steel. 

Toward the latter part of the fourteenth century 
King Olaf died, and in him the old race of Norse 
kings, descended from Harald Haarfager, became 
finally extinct. The kingdoms of Denmark and Nor- 
way were then united, under the far-famed princess 
Margaret, whose extraordinary ^alents and address 
have rendered her name illustrious as " the Semira- 
mis of the North;" and henceforth, until the year 
1468, the Orcadian group of islands may be more 
recognized as a Danish than a Norwegian colony. 
Aa the star of the former ascended to the zenith, that 



of the latter declined ; and the warlike celebrity of 
her insular provinces became shorn of its radiance, in 
proportion as the mother country sunk into provincial 

Thus, for a period of nearly six hundred years, and 
under some thirty Scandinavian .Jarls, or Earls, these 
descendants of the early Norwegian sea-rovers flourished 
in a state of barbarous freedom. Their princes were 
generally known and feared throughout Great Britain, 
and were also so much respected, that they inter- 
married even with the royal families of Scotland and 

"Pew of our readers," says an anonymous Orca- 
dian antiquary, " are perhaps aware of the ancient 
importance of Orkney ; as, for example, that Caithness 
and Sutherland, the Hebrides, and several tracts on 
the western shores of Scotland, were formerly subject 
4o the dominion of the princes and earls of Orkney* 
—that east Boss and Murray were also subject to 
an Earl of Orkneyf — that William the Conqueror 
of England was also a lineal descendant of an Orca- 
dian Jarlf — that Reid, a Bishop of Orkney, was the 
first founder of the University of Edinburgh," and 
that Robert Bruce, grateful, no doubt, for some assist- 
ance in the hour of his necessity, which has escaped 
the notice of historians, after the battle of Bannock- 
bum, ordered, that for ever after five pounds sterling 
■hould be paid to St. Magnus' Kirk in Kirkwall, out 
of the customs payable by the town of Aberdeen. 

But it was not for warlike prowess alone that the 
Norwegian colonists were renowned. Iceland, which 
has been emphatically called tho University of the 
North, was discovered and colonized only a few years 
previous to the reduction of Orkney, by the same 
people, and from the same quarter. In that seques- 
tered spot, religion, learning, and legislation, took up 
their favourite abode, and attained a wonderful degree 
of cultivation long before the revival of letters in the 
South of Europe. *'The Skalds, or poets of Iceland," 
says TorfcBus, " are famous for their skill in poetry 
and song. They resided at the courts of kings and 
princes, whom it was part of their office to accompany 
to battle, in order to be eye-witnesses of the actions 
they were to celebrate and record, and which they 
afterwards sung at great and solemn entertainments. 
They animated the soldiers to fight, and extolled the 
chieftains who signalized their courage, or fell in arms, 
Not only the particular exploits, but sometimes the 
whole lives of their kings and heroes were thus re- 
cited. These songs, which, being communicated from 
One to another, were everywhere publicly chanted." 

The ancient and modern historians of the North 
refer to them as authorities for the earlier periods of 
their history. Great numbers of these compositions 
are extant in print, or preserved in manuscript. If, 
then, the intellectual resources of the Skalds were in 
dispensably necessary to the fame of kings, princes, 
and warriors, it is but reasonable to infer, that in 
whatever quarter the raven-banner floated, wherever 
hostile spears commingled, or wherever good legisla- 
tion smoothed down the asperities of barbarism, the 
talents of the poet would be in high requisition; and 

* Edinburgh Review, voL viii., p. 99. 

t Vide Torfiri Oreades. 

% Butt*! History, Book ii., cap. iii. 

their inspirations, which confer immortality on heroes 
and legislators, would be purchased at any price. To 
perish ingloriously, without being embalmed in the 
Runick lay of the Skald, was not for a moment to be 
thought of ; it therefore amounts to the truth of a 
mathematical axiom, that the potent lords of the 
island earldom would attract, invite, and retain the 
highest intellectual attainment which power or wealth, 
or a combination of both, could procure. That our 
illustrious countryman, Sir Walter Scott — whose pro- 
found researches into northern antiquities were equalled 
by few, surpassed by none — was of the same opinion, 
is proved from his writings. In the inimitable "Lay," 
when wassail was held in Branksome tower, and when 
the nuptial convivialities were nearly degenerating 
into a brawl, 

" The wily dame, lest farther fray 
Should mar the concord of the day, 
Had hid the minatrela tone their lay;" 

the sweetest of which was by Harold the bard, who 
usually struck his harp to the glories of 

"The lordly line of high St. Clair," 
Earls of Orkney, but who, on the present occasion, 
chanted a dirge to the memory of the lovely Rosabette, 
which, like oil on stormy waves, calmed the mental 
commotions of the hostile retainers, while the fire of 
passion was extinguished by the meltings of our com. 
mon humanity. I am somewhat proud of my proto- 
type and countryman, Harold, and shall embellish what 
is dull by that which is brilliant, by extracting a 
poetical account of his birth and education from the 
undying pages of our mighty minstrel : — 

" Harold was born where restless sots 
' Howl round the storm-swept Oreades, 
Where erst St. Clair held princely sway, 
O'et isle and islet, strait and bay — ■ 
Still nods their palace to its fall, 
Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall ! 
Thence oft he marked fierce Pentland rare. 
As if grim Odin rode her wave ; 
And watched the, whilst, with visage pale, 
The throbbing heart, the straggling sail; 
For all of wonderful and wild 
Had rapture for the lonely child. 
And much of wild and wonderful, 
In these rude isles, might fancy cull ; 
For thither came, in times afar, 
Stem Lochlin's sons of roving war — 
The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood, 
Skilled to prepare the raven's food, 
Kings of the main, their leaders brave. 
Their bark* the dragons of the wave. 
And then, in many a stormy vale, 
The Skald had told his wond'rous tale, 
And many a runic column high 
Had witnessed grim idolatry. 
And thus had Harold, in his youth, 
Learned many a saga's rhyme uncouth 
Of that sea-snake, tremendous curled, 
Whose monstrous circle girds the world; 
Of those dread maids, whose hideous yell 
Maddens the battle's bloody swell ; 
Of chiefs, who, guided through the gloom 
By the pale death-lights of the tomb, 
Ransacked the graves of warriors old, 
Their falchions wrenched from corpses' hold, 
Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms. 
And bade the dead arise to arms 1 
With war and wonder all on flame, 
To Rodin's bowers young Harold came, 
Where, by sweet glen and j 
He learned a milder i 


About the year 1468, fames the Third of Scotland 
began to cast his eyes over the regal beauties of oertain 
European Courts for a partner to his throne; and 
having fixed on the princess Margaret, daughter of 
Christian Pint of Denmark, a marriage treaty was 
subsequently arranged, in which the Danish Monarch 
agreed to remit the quit-rent due to Norway for the 
Hebrides, and also to pay a dowry of 60,000 Rhenish 
florins with the young princess. Being somewhat low 
in finance, he was under the necessity of pledging the 
Earldom of Orkney, and Lordship of Zetland, to James, 
as a security for this sum ; but the money was never 
paid, and those remaining conquests of the Northmen 
in the Scottish seas were thus annexed to that 
kingdom. From and after this political conjunction 
we hear of little else, on the part of the minions who 
were sent to govern this once warlike people, but low 
chicanery, open tyranny, or a combination of both. 
Bishops and lordlings, legitimate and illegitimate, 
seemed to vie with each other in acta of oppression 
and spoliation. The sinister scion of royalty, the 
mitred prelate, and the haughty coronetted feudatory, 
literally scrambled for the mammon of unrighteousness ; 
and, like gamesters and cozeners, they shuffled the pack 
to suit their nefarious purposes — they bartered and 
exchanged spiritualities and temporalities, until these 
became incorporated under the control of a layman. 
Thus Lord Robert Stuart, who was commendator of 
Holyrood House, and Adam Bothwell, bishop of Ork- 
ney, found it mutually convenient for their secular 
purposes to exchange the temporalities of their respec- 
tive benefices ; and they accordingly exchanged them, 
while Lord Robert held his right to the Earldom, so 
that he united in himself the right both of the crown 
and the bishop. Sometimes the greater cormorants 
would drive the smaller off their nests, though only for 
a short time. In this manner, on the ill-starred mar- 
riage of the infatuated Queen Mary with Bothwell, that 
execrable individual was immediately created " Duke 
of Orkney," with such extravagant privileges and im- 
munities, as no subject should be possessed of, be he 
what he may. This detestable homicide, however, only 
enjoyed his honeymoon-dignity for about -the space of a 
month ; he fled from Carberry Hill, having his " dnkry " 
dissolved into thin air. After the fall and flight of that 
minion, Lord Robert Stewart resumed possession of 
his earldom, and ultimately, his son Patrick, besides 
the earldom, obtained also a charter of the bishopric 
from the crown, which gave him powers by far too 
great for either subject or sovereign to possess. Both 
father and son seem to have inherited from their pro- 
genitor, James Fifth, a taste for splendour and prodi- 
gality, while insolent pride,* ferocity, and the exercise 
of almost unlimited power, induced them to tyrannize 
over their serfs with impunity. In those days, it was 
a " far cry" from Orkney to Holyrood ; nevertheless, 
the " cry" at length penetrated the royal ear, which 
brought about the catastrophe already noticed. It is 
only justice to mention, however, that although Earl 
Robert established a reign of tyranny and extortion, 

* Aa a proof of that inordinate ambition, which almost 
amounted to high treason, I refer the reader to the famous in- 
scription which Earl Kobert hod carved above the gate of hit 
palaoe of Birsay, after having enlarged it: " Dominns Roberta! 
Stuart us, Alios Jacobioiiati Bex Scotorom, hot opus instnrpii." 


he only ohastiaed the people with whips, but his son 
Patrick, who succeeded him, chastised them with 

Having succeeded to, and ascended his insular throne, 
Earl Patrick betook himself to building a palace worthy 
of his supposed potency, the magnificent fragments of 
whioh remain to this day, and are beautiful even in ruin. 
It was known as "the Earl's Palace," to distinguish 
it from "the Palace of the Yards, "a venerable edifice, 
which had been erected for the ecclesiastical digni- 
taries of the Cathedral Church of Kirkwall, which 
Hakon of Norway was accustomed to occupy, and is 
which he died, after the disastrous expedition, in which 
he was routed, at Largs. The old and new palaces 
thus formed two sides of an ample square, and the 
noble church of St. Magnus formed a third ; and few 
provincial towns in Scotland, at that period, could 
boast of such architectural splendours as the island 
metropolis of Kirkwall. Ichabod, however, has long 
been written on the portals of the palaco ! 

" Still doth the ruined palace stand 

A crumbling relique in the land-* 

Tenantless fabric, huge and high, 

And proud in ruined majesty. 

The verdant ivy robes thy wall, 

Weeds are the dwellers of thy hall, 

And in the wind the tufted grass 

Wares o'er thy dim and mouldering mass." 


It has tho air of an elegant, yet massive structure, 
uniting, as was usual in the residences of feudal princes, 
the character of a palace and of a castle. A great 
banqueting hall, communicating with several largo 
rounds, or projecting turret-rooms, and having at 
either end an immense chimney, testifies the ancient 
northern hospitality of the Earls of Orkney, and com* 
munioates, almost in the modern fashion, with a gallery 
or withdrawing room, of considerable dimensions, and 
having, like the hall, its projecting turrets. 

The lordly hall itself is lighted by a fine Gothio 
window, of shafted stone, at one end, and is entered by 
a spaeious and elegant staircase, consisting of three 
flights of stone steps. 

The exterior ornaments and proportions of the an- 
cient building are also very handsome. " The largo 
round turrets," says the author of the " Baronial Anti- 
quities of Scotland," "impending from the angles, and 
the massive tiers of semi-classical pilasters on either side 
of the door-way, are quite characteristic of the period 
when the palaoe is known to have been built— the early 
part of the sevententh century. There is less distance 
between the spring of the turret and the foundation of 
the building than is usual in old Scottish mansions. 
The turrets are of spacious dimensions, and they are 
more richly decorated, especially in the corbels, than 
those of Scotland. It is thus not improbable, that, 
instead of having been committed to any of the Scot- 
tish architects, who had adapted the French style to 
the humbler fortunes of their native aristocracy, the 
palaoe waa built by architects who eame direct from 

Such was the gorgeous aerie in which this vulture 
roosted; and from whenoe he issued his arbitrary and 
capricious mandates, reckless of the grinding misery 
whioh he inflicted and entailed on the miserable* who 
had the misfortune to be bent or placed naiei hje 
despotism and rapacity. 3<5D c3 



To the inordinate pomp and ostentation of this coro- 
netted oppressor, tradition, with her thousand tongues, 
bears ample testimony ; to which I may add a passage 
from a scarce and curious tome, printed for the Banna- 
tyne Club, entitled "The Uistorie and Life of King 
James the Sext," where we are told that "he never 
went from his castle to the church, nor abroad other- 
wise, without the convoy of fifty musqueteers, and other 
gentlemen of convoy and guard ; that at dinner and 
supper there were three trumpeters that sounded till 
the meat of the first service was set on the table— did 
the same at the second service, and also after grace ; 
and that, from Earl Patrick's intercepting pirates, and 
collecting tribute of uncouth (strange) fishers that came 
to these seas, he made such a collection of great guns, 
and other weapons for war, as that no house, palace, 
or castle in Scotland was equally well furnished in that 
respect." This chief's proceedings exhibited consum- 
mate address, and a daring wicked ability, unprece- 
dented even in the rude age iu which he lived. Ac- 
cording to the charge subsequently adhibited against 
him, he accused the gentry of the islands with high 
treason, and condemned them in his own court, by 
which the royal prerogative was usurped, since, high 
aa he was invested with delegated powers, these did 
not include offences against the State. But self-in- 
terest, not loyalty to his sovereign, was the moving 
power. When the unfortunate accused were con- 
demned, their estates were forfeited — not to the crown 
—all forfeitures went to himself; and occasionally the 
oppressed Udaller was frightened into a pecuniary set- 
tlement, or a relinquishment of a portion of that in- 
heritance which had descended to him through succes- 
sive ages. He levied exorbitant tolls on the ferries 
between island and island ; he extorted taxes and du- 
ties, and exacted forfeitures of every description ; he 
ultimately prohibited the lieges from crossing the fer- 
ries without his special licence. Numbers, who, in the 
course of business, or other lawful causes, were obliged 
to force their way over sounds and firths, were cap- 
tured by the minions of usurped power, incarcerated 
in close prison, set in the stocks, placed is irons, and 
kept there for "days and weeks." 

One of the great objects of his extortion was the 
building of the sumptuous palace above described. We 
learn from Pitcairn's "Criminal Trials," "that the 
said Earl, leaving no sort of extraordinary oppression 
and treasonable violence unpractised, has compelled the 
most part of the gentlemen's tenants of the said coun- 
tries of Orkney and Zetland to work to him all manner 
of work and labour by sea and land, in rowing and sail- 
ing his ships and boats, working in the stone quarry, 
winning andbearing forth thereof stones and red (debris), 
loading his boats and shallops with stone and lime, 
building his park dykes, and all other sorts of servile 
and painful labour,' without either meat, drink, or hire!" 
The Egyptian taskmasters were mild to their Hebrew 
■laves, when compared with Earl Patrick. No doubt 
those same taskmasters would occasionally accuse them 
of idleness — their lives were made bitter with hard 
bondage, in mortar, and in brick, and in all manner of 
service in the field; but, according to their own con- 
fession, they had a plentiful table, they sat beside the 
flesh-pots of Egypt, and had bread to the full ; sub- 
sequently they remembered the fish, the cucumbers, 
the melons, the leeks, the onions^nd the garlic— and if 

they had no "hire," they had, at least, an abundance 
of provisions. The husbandman could not dispose of 
the produce of his farm, the fisherman durst not vend 
the fruits of his toil, the peasant could not offer his 
sheep or his pig for sale, without licence from the Earl, 
under ruinous penalties. He claimed and extorted a 
fat ox and twelve sheep, out of every parish in the 
country, " without ony rycht," yearly. He compelled 
the inhabitants to contract to himself the " haill com- 
modity of fischinges," and fortified his power by pro- 
curing obligations from the islanders not to appeal to 
the royal courts. He forced the people throughout 
the whole of the parishes to swear that they should 
conceal nothing that may make an " unlaw "* to the 
Earl ; and in the event of concealment, and the same 
made known to him pr his deputies, then, their lands, 
goods, and property were confiscated. 

The fifteenth article of Earl Patrick's indictment 
bore, "That my lord ejected the ministers out of their 
gleibes, and spoilzes them of the half of the wol and 
tiend lambis." Now, to say nothing of its morality, 
this was extremely bad policy on the part of the Earl-— 

"Corbiei ind clergy are a kittle •hot," 

and the consequence was, that his lust after "gleibs," 
"wol," and "tiend lambis," brought a hornet's nest 
about his ears, and did more for the acceleration of his 
ruin than the half of all his other malversations. 

To consolidate that power, which, in spite of. the 
influence of the Scottish crown, he had so unjustly 
acquired, he treasonably " persuaded, induced, coun- 
selled, and commanded " a number of gentlemen, who, 
no doubt, were afraid to resist, to subscribe and de- 
liver to him an instrument of tnanrent, whereby they 
obliged themselves and their heirs to serve and main- 
tain him against all and whatsoever persons, without 
reservation, and that they should never hear nor know 
of anything to his hurt, but that they should reveal it 
within twenty-four hours, "without ony execptioun of 
impossibilitic or distance of place, contrarielie of wind, 
wedder, or other impediment," under pain of forfeiture 
of life, lands, and goods. Moreover, if it should so 
occur that the contravening of this bond, by any of the 
subscribers, should not come to the Earl's knowledge 
until after the death of such person, it was lawful to try 
his, or their heirs, and punish the said heirs as he might 
have done the principal offender. It is, or ought to be, 
humbling to our common humanity, to find a specimen 
thereof, albeit dressed in a little brief authority — 

"Before high Heav'n playing such fantastic tricks 
A* make ev'n angels weep." 

Here is a nobleman (P) so intoxicated with power, 
so dazzled with the transcendent brightness of his own 
image ; so unmanned by the poison of servile flatterers, 
like Canute, or so brutalised by want of reflection, 
like Mrs. Partington, that, in despite of common sense, 
reason, religion, or philosophy, he orders his vassals, 
on pain of death, to warn him of impending danger 
within twenty-four hours from the time such shall come 
to their knowledge — and that in an archipelago of 
some sixty-eight isles, islets, and holms ; with reefs, 
rocks, stacks, and skerries innumerable ; with the fierce 
Atlantic Ocean rushing through frith, strait, sound, 
and inlet with irresistible fury ; and in a latitude where 

» Unlaw, a aM.-Jamie.on. 



the son is barely three hours above the horizon, dar- 
ing the brumal solstice ! 

On the restoration of episcopacy, and the appoint- 
ment of James Law to the see of Orkney, in 1605, 
the Earl's star began to decline. His expenses and 
prodigality exceeded the ill-gotten revenues which he 
unjustly wrested from his unfortunate vassals. He 
became entangled in the meshes of debt and difficulties, 
although, as has been seen, he scrupled at no means 
which were calculated to fill his coffers, to supply his 
demands, or to gratify his vehement lust for power. 
The interests of the Earl and the Bishop were opposed 
to each other ; but the sagacity of the mitre proved 
too much for the violence of the coronet, and, after 
much dissimulation on both sides, an open rupture en- 
sued. The Bishop fanned the flame of discontent that 
had been long smouldering; he encouraged the out- 
cries of the oppressed inhabitants; became a nucleus 
for the malcontents, procured accusations, and digested 
those for the Privy Council ; operated upon the avari- 
cious nature of James, by the prospect of a forfeiture 
of the earldom to the crown, and ministered to his 
ravenous arrogance by the most contemptible adula- 
tion and ludicrous flattery. If kingcraft required a 
double portion of that unctuous aliment which feeds 
vanity, the Bishop was the peculiar artiste to adminis- 
ter the savoury sop. 

The following letter from Bishop Law to the King, 
dated Edinburgh, November 17, 1608, will at once 
■how that the residence of his Grace among the un- 
polished Orcadian Udallers had not in the smallest 
degree impaired the courtly language of the would-be 
Archbishop ; and, although it brings before the royal 
eye a number of atrocities which might have remained 
in operation for years to come, yet I cannot help 
thinking that self-interest predominated as much in 
the inditing of it, as either loyalty or Christian philan- 
thropy: — 

" Sir, — May it please your sacred and Mast Gracious Ma- 
jesty, the preferment which I have received of your Majesty's 
great and undeserved favour, to be called and reputed Bishop of 
Orcades and Zetland; the many great and continual complaint* 
of your Majesty's poor distressed subjects in those isles, my Chris- 
tian compassion of their miseries, and most specially the sincere 
affection and reverend regard which I have, and ever shall have, 
to your Majesty's high honour and true glory before Ood and 
man, both for the time present and to come, has moved me to 
present upon my knees by this letter, supplying my absence, 
my most humble and serious supplication, in favour of this dis- 
tressed and oppressed people, thai it will please your Majesty's 
great wisdom, and royal power and authority, some comfort and 
relief may be provided and procured unto them. Alas ! dear 
and dread Sovereign, truly it is to be pitted, that so many of your 
Majesty's subjects are so manifoldly and grievously oppressed, 
some by ejection and banishment from their houses and native 
soils, others by contorting the laws and extorting their goods, 
the moat part being so impoverished, that some of them neither 
dare nor may complain, but in silent and forced patience groan 
under their grievances, as hopeless of help ; others are compelled 
with great trouble, danger, and damage to their poor persons and 
estates, to seek remedy by ordinary justice, which, when they 
have obtained, they must, nevertheless, through proud contempt 
and lack of execution, either thus molest your Majesty as the 
only strength and stay of their hopes under God, or else be ut- 
terly disappointed, and lose all. The bearer can and will inform 
and qualify the particulars ; and I, who am able at this time to 
do them no other good, nor comfort, and has so long and ear- 
nestly been solicited by them, do now prostrate myself at your 
Majesty's feet in their behalf; not in humble ambition, nor in 
covered covetousneas, intending and aiming by the correction of 
that nobleman to seek the erection, of my W estate and poor 

fortune, but once t» acquit myself of that duty which, as I think 
God, my conscience, my calling, your Majesty's favour to- 
wards me, and the fidelity of my bounden service, does re- 
quire at my hands, being as ready to retire myself to my 
former private condition, if it shall not displease your Majesty, 
as I have, and shall be most willing and obedient to go 
forward against all dangers and difficulties in discharging my 
unworthy service here or there, where it shall please your Ma- 
jesty to command. In end, I humbly beseech your Gracious 
Majesty, if there be any jot or tittle here to offend your High- 
ness, pardon my imprudency, and respect with favourable coun- 
tenance this my petition, which I presumed to send up to your 
Majesty upon no other warrant than the certain knowledge and 
experience which I have of the piety, justice, wisdom, 4c, where- 
with God hath endued and adorned your Majesty, which all and 
every one do join themselves with my humble supplication, and 
do all upon your Majesty's royal power for help and comfort to 
these wounded and grieved members (though far distant) of your 
Highness' politick body. Sir, I do not use here the tour sweet- 
ness of flattering words, but from my heart do praise God, who 
hath graced and blessed your Majesty, and shall still pray that 
he may multiply more and more his blessings upon your sacred 
person, royal estate, and happy government, and crown your 
Majesty with the crown of glory. 

"Your Majesty's very loyal subject, and most humble servant, 
"Jk. B. ovObcadm." 

This, and other supplications of a similar tendency, 
are characterized by Laing, the historian, as " acrimo- 
nious," and that there was a "probability " that the 
oppressions were exaggerated in the oomplaints of the 
islanders, or aggravated by the report of their bishop. 
It is not, however, probable that a church dignitary, 
possessing the prudence and worldly wisdom of Law, 
would have dared to denounce such a potent nobleman 
as Earl Patrick confessedly was, to his Sovereign, and 
that Sovereign his own cousin-german, if he had not 
been morally certain of being borne out by over- 
whelming evidence, and crushing testimony — the 
united voice of an oppressed people. My friend and 
countryman, the late John Malcolm, Esq., in one of his 
juvenile poems, tells us that : — 

" records rare tell many a tale 

To later times of wo and wail, 
When Patrick, Orkney's ruthless lord, 
Wav'd o'er the isles a despot's sword, 
And made his will the law which gave 
Offenders exile or the grave." 

The Bishop having thus angled in the troubled 
waters of denunciation, with but sorry success, he ap- 
pears to have at last baited his hook with a " forfault ;" 
the bait was swallowed, hook and all ; and from that 
hour the star of Earl Patrick fell to the nadir with 
unprecedented velocity. He was incarcerated, first 
in Edinburgh Castle, and latterly in that of Dumbar- 
ton, for several years. His earldom was annexed to the 
crown, and his right reverend denunciator appointed by 
the Sovereign to repair to the earldom, with full power, 
commission, and authority, to inquire into, and report 
on, the complaints of the islanders ; and the lieges are 
enjoined in the most stringent manner, and under 
severe penalties, to " reverence, acknowledge, and obey 
the said Bishop, in all and everything tending to the 
execution of his commission. " It was not to be sup- 
posed that such an untamcable spirit as the Earl 
should sit calmly down under his wrongs, without an 
effort to recover his rents, dignities, and immunities ; 
accordingly, he found ways and means to issue forth a 
commission to his illegitimate son, Bobert Stewart, 
instructing and empowering him to use his best endea- 
vours to expel the right reverend intruder and his royr- 



midons, and to " uplift " his rants and other customary 
dues, as if no such thing as annexation between the 
earldom and the crown had taken place. Nothing 
loath — the youth flew to arras, and, with the assistance 
of a few adherents, drove out the sacerdotal retainers — 
surprised and took possession of the Palace of Birsay, 
the Castle of Kirkwall, and the Tower of the Cathe- 
dral ; and, for a short while, the current of events 
seemed to be returning to its old channel. But the 
Privy Council became alarmed ; and, after much 
solicitation for the appointment, the Earl of Caithness, 
a mortal foe of Earl Patrick, was commissioned to 
quell the insurrection; and with the alacrity of a 
tiger he suddenly pounced upon his hereditary foc- 
men, with five hundred of his countrymen, and be- 
leaguered the different posts which the insurgents had 
taken ; he drove the last of them into the Castle of 
Kirkwall, where they stood a siege of three weeks, 
and ultimately surrendered on conditions, which were 
violated. "Robert Stewart's escape," says Laing, 
" was prevented by his guards ; the Castle was re- 
duced by the Earl of Caithness ; and the bastard sur- 
rendered on the pious condition that no torture should 
be employed to extort a confession of his father's 
guilt. The father was convicted on the son's confes- 
sion. His descent from a brother of the unfortunate 
Mary, gave him the strongest claim to the compassion 
of James ; but, as Somerset had succeeded to Dunbar's 
expectations of his estate, every avenue of mercy was 

The die was now cast. The unhappy Earl was 
eited before the Court of Justiciary. He was accused 
at its bar of treason, rebellion, and other crimes ; and, 
upon the evidence, chiefly of his own son, that the 
late seditious rising in Orkney took place by the order 
of the Earl, he was declared guilty by a jury, and con- 
demned to suffer death, which took place by decapita- 
tion, at the Cross of Edinburgh, the 6th day of Feb- 
ruary, 1615. The Castle of Kirkwall was razed to the 
ground, and the Vandal Earl of Caithness would have 

demolished the venerable cathedral,* one of the archi- 
tectural glories of the middle ages, had not Bishop 
Law, to his eternal honour, prevented it. The good 
Bishop had "much difficulty" in "hindering'' the co- 
ronetted ruffian from committing this piece of sacri- 
lege ; and whoever hereafter may contemplate the 
beauties of this transcendent temple, which, having 
stood for seven hundred years, still remains pre-emi- 
nent in dignity and sublimity, cannot fail to bless the 
memory of the man who saved it from the fangs of 

After the full of this gigantic feudatory, whose 
bond of allegiance was ever of the most flimsy tex- 
ture, the victims of his oppression seem to have in- 
haled new life ; the boon of liberty, in the proper sense 
of the term, they did not, indeed, reoeive — but the con- 
trast was so striking, that it is almost felt yet by their 
descendants, and the cloud of obloquy which over- 
spread the head of the oppressor centuries since, seems 
as dense as ever. 

* "The traveller from the central district* of the mighty 
empire, to which the far Isle of Pomona is now attached, looking 
with admiring wonder on its lofty tiers of strong and symmetrical 
arches, and its richly-mullioned windows, admits that old St. 
Magnus is matched hut by a very few of the ecclesiastical edifice* 
of our great cities, and those few are also ancient. Even as when 
it first reared its head among the fishermen's huts, it still frowns 
broad and dark over the surrounding houses of the old burgh of 
Kirkwall." — Baronial and Ecclesiastical Anlif*i/itJ. 

" Eternal Nature ! wlieu thy giant hand 
Had heaved the floods and fixed the trembling land, 
When life sprang startling at thy plastic call, 
Endless her farms, and man the lord of all ! 
Say, was that lordly form inspired by thee, 
To wear eternal chains and bow the knee P 
Was man ordained the slave of man to toil, 
Yoked with the brutes and fettered to the soil ; 
Weighed in a tyrant's balance with his gold ? 
No ! Nature stamped us in a heavenly monld ! 
She bade no wretch his thankless labour urge, 
Nor, trembling, take the pittance and the scourge t" 


A watlm debate has arisen on the subject of our 
recent policy in the Indian Archipelago, and we have 
reason for prophesying considerable discussion of 
the subject in Parliament. Some individuals are 
busily framing an impeachment against Sir James 
Brooke/who is the intellectual instrument, and Govern- 
ment, which is the motive power of that policy. Mean- 
while the organs of the economical humanitarians are 
industriously accumulating charges against the Go- 
vernor of Labium. They derive their inspiration 
from a Singapore print, and promise themselves much 
honour from the success of their* endeavours, which are 
to withdraw British influence from the Eastern Seas, 
and leave those magnificent waters to the unchallenged 
dominion of piracy. Their hostility strikes out into 
many ramifications, bnt it is not difficult to trace all 
these to the parent root. 

Sir James Brooke, assisted by a small British force, 
has encountered and destroyed a piratical fleet off the 


coast of Borneo. The power of two buccaneering 
tribes has been, at least, partially annihilated; their 
prahus have been scattered, their strongholds over- 
thrown, and their lands laid waste. The spectacle 
presented by the scenes of devastation formed a fear- 
ful and melancholy picture, and nothing but a terrible 
necessity should lead to the infliction of a chastisement 
so severe ; but whether the blow struck at the organisa- 
tion of the Barcbas and Sakarran should be described 
as a massacre of simple and innocent traders, or a 
victory gained over cruel and incorrigible pirates/^is a 
question to be decided by a review of the circumstances 
which preceded, which provoked, and which, in the 
opinion of all well-informed writers in Europe and in 
the East, justified the recent operations against the 
freebooting communities of the Borncan rivers. 

A liberal, but impartial inquiry into our policy as 
represented in the conduct of Sir James Brooke, is the 
mote newwary, because oertiua individuals, possessing 

Digitized by VjOOQLC 



great talents and no information, engage is the debate, 
and cast upon the character of our countryman imputa- 
tions of cruelty, vindictiveneas, and a sordid attachment 
to Self-interest. The nature of these accusations, and 
the spirit in which they are delivered, reflect little 
credit on those who give them circulation. It is, there- 
fore, a task, agreeable to our feelings, as well as easy 
to our reason, to stand between Sir James Brooke and 
the aspersions which hail upon him from the economi- 
cal humanitarian!. 

It will never be imputed to us that we are the ever- 
ready and uncompromising defenders of British colo- 
nial policy. On the contrary, it is too often our task 
to attack men, measures, and principles ; but where a 
course favourable to the national interests, friendly to 
civilization, conformable with justice, and consistent 
with humanity, is pursued, it is right to encourage and 
applaud it ; it is shameful and ungenerous to select it 
as the subject of censure. True, it may be, that no 
evil can come from the hostility of the writers to whom 
are allude ; true, it may be, that the inaccuracy of their 
assertions as to practical facts, destroys - the effect of 
their theoretical declamation; but this does not sob- 
tract an atom from their intemperate malignity. 

From private sources, as well as from the known 
works of authority, from a constant attention to the 
current flood of events, and from a simple theory of 
humanity and justice, we may draw the complete re- 
futation of all that has been charged against Sir James 
Brooke, and against our policy in the distant waters of 
the Indian Archipelago. We assume much ; but our 
unlimited confidence is grounded on irrefragable testi- 
mony. Reviewing, therefore, the long files of ob- 
jections, charges, and statements, the truth and phi- 
losophy of the question, and the qualifications of those 
who condemn the recent operations, let us decide be- 
tween the Rajah of Sarawak and his antagonists. 

To the north east of the territory ceded by Muda 
Hasatm to our adventurous countryman, lies a large pro- 
vince, fertilised by many considerable rivers. The 
banks of these streams have been, from a period be- 
yond the memory of man, inhabited by the Sarebas and 
Sakarran pirates, whose fleets, frequently joined by 
prahus from weaker tribes, have been wont to scour all 
the 'neighbouring waters, to intercept the traders on the 
high seas, to devastate the coasts, burn villages, mas- 
sacre the defenceless natives, and carry off women and 
children to a hopeless, although somewhat softened, 
slavery. This admission, however, should not be laid 
to the account of their humanity, because their cruelties 
on the weak, the resisting, and the aged, are celebrated 
and dreaded throughout the Archipelago, but to mo- 
tives of self-interest, since captives harshly treated are 
neither serviceable in bondage, nor valuable in the 
slave markets of the Indian Islands. 

On the last day of July, 1849, Sir James Brooke, 
accompanied by the Nemesis steamer, an European ship, 
several English boats, and numerous native war prahus* 
encountered a fleet of a hundred and twenty Sarebas 
and Sakarran prahus, returning from a marauding ex- 
pedition, and intent on another. A contest, protracted 
daring six hours, took place after sunset. The whole 
hay, at tike mouths of the Sarebas and Kaluka rivers, 
blazed with the. flash of artillery, rockets, and small 
•not. The pirates — "innocent and simple traders " 
"-made no offer of submission, no attempt at parky, 

but commenced the conflict, and replied to the fire of 
the British force with equal determination, although 
their loose and random discharges were ineffectual. 
Their fleet was destroyed ; more than eighty prahus 
were battered to pieces or driven on shore. One was 
sunk by a rocket, one was run down by the Nemesis, 
and the dawn of morning revealed a spectacle at on'ce 
terrible and strange. Shattered wrecks, shields, spears, 
and fragments of vessels, floated amid the frothy foam, 
along the whole line of the bay, and more than seventy 
prahus lay on the beach, with the natives swarming 
around them as flies upon carrion. Immense quanti- 
ties Of merchandise— evidently the plunderof numerous 
trading craft, were taken from them, and a flotilla of 
native boats, laden with the recaptured goods, shortly 
proceeded to Sarawak. Numbers of the pirates es- 
caped into the jungle; but the slaughter was great. 
None place it lower than five hundred men killed^ 
whilst some compute it at more than a thousand. 
However this may be, it was enough; it was a melan- 
choly thing, and the effusion of so much blood must 
be regretted. Yet, whilst we regard with pain the sad 
spectacle of this tremendous havoc, it is our duty to 
inquire into its necessity, before denouncing it as an 
" indisoriroinate massacre " of "innocent and simple 

Sir James then proceeded to the town of Pakn, an 
the Sarebas river, and destroyed it — thus rooting out 
a notorious haunt of piracy. The untaught, unsophis- 
ticated natives had thickly planted the ground on both 
sides with short, sharp spikes, and it was necessary to 
send a small native force in advance, to pick them out, 
ere the European force could proceed. The pirates, 
like poor ignorant people, "wholly addicted to com- 
merce," displayed considerable ingenuity in their prac- 
tice of the warlike art. They hovered along the line 
of march, they threw heavy booms across the river, 
they made frequent sallies from the jungle, they scat- 
tered spies all over the forests, amid the branches of 
trees, and altogether appeared to have studied Poly- 
anus to some purpose. The two unarmed sons of the 
Otang Eaya of Landu, advancing to reoonnoitre, were 
cut down by a party in ambush. Their father grieved 
bitterly over their loss. When he saw the dead bodies 
of his children — one headless, the other gashed with 
many gaping wounds, his face darkened with a sudden 
cloud of anguish. We have before us the manuscript 
journal of an eye witness, who describes the picture as 
one deeply pathetic. Sir James was standing on a lit- 
tle eminence on the river's bank, when the mutilated 
remains were brought down. The Otang Kaya looked 
at his dead sons, and then, overwhelmed by his bereave- 
ment, burst into a storm of passion, vowing no more to 
serve — as he had bravely served — the English, who 
allowed his boys to be slain. Nothing gave him com- 
fort until he heard from Sir James Brooke what the 
same writer tens us is deeply prised by all the friendly 
people of Borneo, a panegyrio on his sons' bravery. 
" They died like warriors," said the Rajah, and the old 
Otang Eaya smiled through his grief. All present . re- 
spected and pitied the unhappy chieftain, whose enthu- 
siastic friendship to the Rajah, long tried fidelity, and 
remarkable courage, had rendered him famous among 
the Bornean allies of the English. The melancholy re« 
lies of the dead were delivered to him, and he com- 
menced the descent of the river in a boat, b«t«re the 




day dawned was doomed to a new bereavement, for a 
rope accidentally touched the trigger of a loaded mus- 
ket, and the charge killed the Otang Kaya's son-in- 
law, and buried itself in the breast of a Malay boatman. 
" Three sons in one day !" cried the aged man, and al- 
most sunk under this accumulation of sorrow. 

The settlements on the banks of the Kanowit river 
were destroyed, several captures were made, and nume- 
rous slaves released. One little child, a white -skinned, 
fair-haired girl, supposed to be an European, was found 
in a private dwelling, and confided to the care of a 
missionary at Sarawak. Sir James then steamed in 
the Nemesis to the town of Poe, whose inhabitants 
were deeply compromised in the atrocities of the Sare- 
bai and Sakarran ; but they promised amendment, de- 
claring they would never again join the piratical expe- 
ditions of those tribes, and their dwellings were spared. 
They gave a hostage in pledge of their faith. This 
circumstance should not be lightly overlooked, since 
it refutes the calumnious assertion that the Rajah 
spares no occasion of bloodshed ; and proves, if other 
evidence were wanting, what has been denied, that the 
Sarebas and Sakarrans were pirates. Such, in outline, 
are the occurrences which have stirred society here 
into a ferment of debate, and, in particular, awakened 
the hostility of some critics, whom we shall not name, 
since our purpose is to refute their statements, and not 
further to injure their reputation. 

The destruction of the pirate fleet is compared to 
an Algerine razzia. The Sakarrans are described as 
the most populous and civilized of the unconverted in- 
habitants of Borneo ; the assertion is quoted that they 
are pirates, and carry on bloodthirsty pursuits, with the 
reply that not one tittle of evidence can be produced 
to justify this "foul language.'' This is the preamble 
to the impeachment. Let us pass judgment on it be- 
fore we pursue the question further. An Algerine 
razzia ! Here is a shameless slander upon our country- 
men in the Indian Archipelago. The same writers 
compare it to a steamer dashing through a flotilla of 
coasting sloops and fishing craft, and running them 
down right and left. Will they picture to themselves 
a fleet of a hundred and twenty coasting sloops and 
smaller craft, manned with freebooters, appearing in 
the British Channel, after seizing several merchant 
ships, after murdering and mutilating a number of 
women, after plundering three villages, killing many 
fishermen, and returning gorged with blood and plun- 
der, to revel in their dens, with the intention of visit- 
ing and destroying by the way another peaceful settle- 
ment f A British steamer, assisted by numerous small 
vessels, approaches this formidable fleet. The "in- 
nocent and simple " crews yell in fierce defiance, bran- 
dish their weapons, beat drums, gongs, and tattawas, 
firing the first discharge, and then replying to the stea- 
mer's broadside by a blaze of artillery and small arms. 
They do not show one signal flag of peace ; they do not 
ask for quarter : they rush madly against the enemy, 
and for six hours return volley for volley, without one 
offer of submission — without one call for mercy, cling- 
ing to the wrecks of their ships, and fighting to the 
last moment of life. If the critics could suppose them- 
selves in constant dread of their depredations, or re- 
member a long category of their atrocities — would 
their destruction be denounced as a massacre, and com- 
pared to an Algerine razzia ? 

Entirely omitting all mention of the Sarebas, or 
confounding them with the Sakarrans— although they 
are two distinct tribes — the writers proceed, as we 
have seen, to declare them populous. That assertion 
we leave untouched, for it proves they are so much the 
more formidable. However, on this point, a fact may 
be welcome, and we therefore inform the critics that 
the Sakarrans numbered, a few years ago, no less than 
ten thousand males. As to their civilization, however, 
it is little surprising that the critic fixes it at a high 
standard, considering what his notions are in that re- 
spect. But the reader's opinion may be different, and 
a few illustrations of their refinement it may be worth 
while to mention. Are we to balance the testimony of 
an ignorant journalist against that of the Rajah Brooke, 
who has sojourned among the tribes whom hedescribes, 
and has enjoyed the best opportunities for observing 
their characteristics? Of the Sakarrans he says, 
"They are the most savage of the tribes, the Sarebas 
excepted, and delight in head-hunting, and pillage both 
by sea and land." They are distinguished from the 
rest of the population by the number of rings worn in 
the ears, and it is a proverb among all the peaceful 
native tribes on that coast, "When you meet a Dyak 
with many rings in his ears, trust him not, for he is a 
bad man." They attire themselves in the most fantas- 
tic costume, and frequently several of them go on the 
war-path with a vow not to return to their village with- 
out a fresh human head to add to the trophies of their 
valour. The Sarebas wander about the forests in large 
hordes, and, whilst engaged in their stealthy expeditions, 
rest at night under the shelter of trees ; but if by civi- 
lization is meant skill in the art of defence and aggres- 
sion, we acknowledge their superior merits. 

This leads to the question, whether the Sarebas and 
Sakarrans are or are not pirates. Prom private 
sources, we learn that a most ample accumulation of 
evidence in support of the affirmative has been pre- 
pared at Singapore ; but from what we already know, 
from information open to the critics as well as our- 
selves, we are prepared to convict them of ludicrous 
ignorance, or wilful perversion of the truth. That 
they are assaulted in their own rivers is dwelt upon 
with pathetic indignation. Among those thus visited 
were the people of Kanowit, whose " innocent simpli- 
city" may be illustrated by an account of one of their 
achievements. In the autumn of 1815 these peaceful 
traders equipped a force of four hundred men, and 
marched stealthily to a large building erected on lofty 
poles on the river's bank lower down. Not a word 
was spoken — not a spear was thrown. The marau- 
ders, crouching, crept along the ground, protected by 
an impenetrable roof of shields, and commenced cut- 
ting and bringing away the posts. The defenders, 
fifty in number, poured down boiling water, and 
missiles, through apertures in the floor, but in vain, and 
their fate approached every moment nearer. At 
length, the Kanowits retreated from the tottering piles. 
It fell, and its inmates were buried in the ruins. 
Many were killed ; many were maimed ; many women 
and children were captured, whilst the rest fled into 
the jungle. This achievement was performed to re- 
venge the refusal of the Palo people to join Patingi 
Abdulrahman of Siriki in a marauding expedition, in 
company with the Sarebas and Sakarrans. Similar 
I atrocities, frequently repeated, provoked a visit from 




the fhlegethon war-steamer. The Kanowitians ex- 
pected nothing less than destruction ; but the British 
officer merely warned their hoary-headed chieftain to 
desist from his nefarious pursuits. He confessed his 
piracies, and promised amendment, but a long train of 
crimes at length drew upon him the active vengeance 
of the English force. He had engaged to desist from 
buccaneering, but similar promises, continually re- 
peated, were constantly broken, until reliance on them 
would have been a display of puerile credulity. This 
is one instance of the maligned innocence of the Bor- 
nean frebooters ; but others may be necessary. 

The Singapore Free Press, a journal of great value, 
distinguished for the ability with which it is con- 
ducted, the liberal spirit by which it is inspired, and 
the information it contains, offers a strong refutation 
of the assertions made by the critics, that the pirate 
tribes, recently punished, are peaceful and innocent 
traders. The Kaluka river, on whose banks once 
flourished numerous happy communities, possessing 
fields, and' gardens, and groves, well-planted lands, and 
stores of provisions, presents at this day a spectacle 
very much the reverse. The borders of the stream 
are peopled by a small remnant of the tribe ; and the 
few hundreds remaining are incessantly harassed by 
the attacks of pirates from the sea aud from the land. 
The blackened remaining towns and villages, depopu- 
lated and abandoned, in consequence of the unremitting 
assaults of the S arenas, are visible everywhere along 
its course. Miles upon miles of cleared grounds, once 
producing rice, now uncultivated, alternate with the 
forests of the sago palm, where the Kalukas dare 
not work. There the wealth of nature wastes itself, 
because man is not allowed to profit by its abundance. 
The desolated course of this river is a commentary on 
the oritic's theory of civilization. 

It may be presumed that the unfortunate Muda 
Hassim, from whom Rajah Brooke is said to have ob- 
tained, by equivocal means, accession 6f territory, 
knew the character of his neighbours, and we have be- 
fore us his letter begging for assistance, and saying, 
"There are certain great pirates, of the people of 
Sarebas and Sakarran, in our neighbourhood, seizing 
goods and murdering people on the high seas. They 
have more than three hundred war.prahus, and extend 
their voyages even to Banjermassin ; they are not 
subject to the government of Brune ; they take much 
plunder from vessels trading between Singapore and 
the good people of our country. It would be a great 
service if our friend would adopt means to put an end 
to these piratical outrages." The result of this was, 
that the freebooters were, in 1843, attacked in their 
rivers and punished ; but had the humane economists 
been at Sakarran, in 1341, when a fleet of a hundred 
and forty Sarebas and Sakarran prahus arrived, with 
the boasted object of attacking and plundering a 
peaceful tribe in the interior, the scene might have 
forced conviction into their minds through the medium 
of their eyes. Reason and the ear appear to be closed 
up by an impenetrable wall of prejudice. The pirates 
vaunted their own strength, calculated the number of 
their boats at eleven score, and their warriors at four 
thousand, entering readily into battle with a superior 
force, but enraged beyond measure when informed that 
their marauding expeditions would not be permitted. 
These are truths which dissipate all doubt ; but con- 

sult all the recent works on the Indian Archipelago, and 
there is not one which does not supply accounts of the 
atrocities committed by the Sarebas and Sakarrans, and 
the Singapore Free Prest, in its elaborate defence of 
our recent policy, satisfies us that " the evidence of 
these people being pirates, and that of the most inve- 
terate aud determined kind, is abundant and conclu- 
sive. No means have been left untried to induce 
these tribes to desist from their piratical pursuits; 
engagements have been made by them, and repeatedly 
broken, and it is only after they have shown them- 
selves thoroughlyfaithless, and spread desolation and 
destruction far and wide, that it has been resolved to 
take measures against them. 

None can be more averse than ourselves to excessive 
severity ; but the law of nations has been, through 
all time, and in all countries, to make incessant war 
against buccaneers j and the pirates of the Indian 
Archipelago have grown so formidable, so destructive 
to commerce, so injurious to civilization, and so ter- 
rible to the peaceful and well-disposed, that we shall 
most lamentably fail in our duty, if, guided by the 
puerile declamation of ignorant jealousy, we relinquish 
that richest portion of the fertile East, to the mercies 
of barbarian freebooters; if we allow our trade to be 
cut up by the roots, and, withdrawing our influence 
altogether from those fertile regions, suffer them to 
relapse into the poverty and degradation of the primi- 
tive ages. We have pledged our faith to the well- 
disposed native tribes ; we have engaged to protect 
them in peaceful pursuits, if they abstain from piracy; 
but the philanthropists of the Manchester school would 
leave them to their fate, to suffer the vengeance which 
the pirate powers would, assuredly, wreak upon them. 
This bane of industry is not an evil that carries 
within itself the cause of its own decay. It is vital 
and reproductive; for the trading communities, if aban- 
doned by us, would seek an alliance to avoid the at- 
tacks of the freebooters ; and certain it is, that hun- 
dreds of native prahus, now engaged in piracy, have 
been detached or deterred from commerce by the cor- 
rupting influence of that gigantic system. But the 
economists are not consistent, for that little print in tie 
straits, which appears to be the feed counsel of the Sa- 
karran and Sarebas pirates, launches forth in magni- 
ficent denunciations of those less atrocious marauders 
who infest the China Seas, and advocates their thorough 
extirpation. This is singular, and assists us in our 
progressive inquest of the motives of its hostility to 
our recent policy. Transplant Sir James Brooke to 
the China Seas, and the China pirates will become in- 
nocent and simple traders, whilst no flourish of rhetori- 
cal invective will be fierce enough to pour upon the 
freebooting communities of the Indian Islands. With 
our critic at home, the case is different. He is the At- 
torney-General of piracy, and sympathises with its 
professors in all quarters of the world; so that, whether 
in the iEgean waters, or the Barbary coast, or the 
slave shores of Africa, or among the channels of the 
Twelve Thousand Islands, the blood-thirsty buccaneer 
may pursue his track of plundor, and confide in the 
sympathetic protection of a philanthropist in Lombard 

The resistance of the Sarebas and Sakarran fleet is 
comparsd to that made by a covey of pheasants at a 
batUi! " They fired incessantly for six hours," as the 



letter of an eye-witness, dated 28th of August, testi- 
fies, in graphic language — "With straining eyes we 
watehed the scene (not a shot had yet been fired from 
the British force), when suddenly, from thousands and 
thousands of throats, broke a yell, so fierce and loud, 
that nothing earthly can afford a oomparison for it, 
accompanied by the sounding of martial instruments, 
and the ineffectual fire of numerous guns" — so that, 
at any rate, the "pheasants" fired first; and whether 
a "Jeovey" at a " battne" could support a conflict with 
artillery and small arms for five or six hours, we shall 
not decide. Unquestionably, however, it appears clear 
to our apprehension, that if the pirates, making no at- 
tempt at parley, maintained repeated discharges of fire- 
arms for so lengthened a time, they sought to kill their 
enemies ; and, whether they succeeded or not, their 
resistance .was equally determined. But if the critics 
imagine they fired for mere amusement, we leave them 
to the possession of an opinion which they may display 
as the sample of their wisdom. None, of course, can 
blame the pirates for their courage, since, in sustain- 
ing the conflict, they only followed the dictates of in- 
structive nature. 

With respect to the "mulct* inflicted by Sir James 
Brooke on the people of Poe, which is compared to 
the policy of J ulius Gessar, it is altogether an imaginary 
ereation ; but the temptation was too powerful to be 
resisted, of accusing our countryman of a mean act. 
No mulct of any kind was inflicted. The guns which 
had been employed against us were taken away — the 
constant practice in war — and the hostage, willingly 
delivered, was kindly treated. But a curious illustra- 
tion of the critic's knowledge is afforded by his ingeni- 
ous attempt to polish the reputation of the Sarebas and 
Bakarran pirates. On board several of their vessels, 
«nd on the beach (which the writer, to suit his own 
purposes, alters into bank, that it might appear to have 
been in the interior), were found the bodies of many 
women, headless, and gashed, from the shoulders to 
the feet, with fresh, yawning wounds. They are sup- 
posed to have been those of the captives taken in the 
course of the expedition; but the critic suggests that 
the Dyaks, Hke the Hindus, and ancient Spaniards, 
massacred their own women to prevent them falling 
into the power of strangers. 

This is clever sophistry ; but it melts before the 
faintest light of inquiry. The pirates do not take then- 
women with them on their excursions ; and in all the 
various conflicts which have occurred between the 
English and the freebooters, nothing of the kind was 
ever found before. We have taken many forts, we 
bave seized many towns, we have arrested many prehus, 
but the Dyaks never slew their own women ; and all 
the accounts of their manners which have been col- 
lected, tend to oppose the probability. But in this 
particular instance we have more than presumptive 
proof. The eye-witness to whom we bave alluded was 
present at the examination of some prisoners, who 
boasted of the numerous body of warriors whioh man- 
ned die fleet. The Sarebas and Sakarrans had plun- 
dered Palo, taken two prahus — one proceeding to, the 
other returning from, Singapore — killed numbers of 
men, and taken some women captives. Another di- 
vision of Sarebas boats, which eluded the pursuit of 
the British force, cruised off Sambas, and massacred 
•areral Chinese, Hey then boldly steered for the 

entrance of the Sarawak river, seised a trading vessel, 
and attacked a group of men on the shore, killing 
twelve. These, and numerous other instances of their 
barbarous ferocity, will be remembered by those who 
peruse the lucubrations of the humane economists. 
These are " the lambs" of the Singapore print ; these 
are they whom "Isonoiliation and peace" are to civilize; 
these are the people " heretofore described as so sim- 
ple and innocent. " We confess ourselves at a loss 
here, and shall owe infinite thanks to the critics, if 
they will point out a single passage, in a single work, 
in which either the Sarebas or Sakarrans are so de- 
scribed. No account published in Europe, since the 
name of Sir James Brooke first attracted notice, sup- 
ports the statement, and we confidently challenge the 
writers to call forward their authority. Unless, aided 
by an antique Malayan grammatist, they refer to Val- 
entyne's four Dutch folios, which are too ponderous to 
read, we must believe that no description by any author 
paints the Sarebas and Sakarrans in these gentle hues of 

The single prami, run down by the Nemesis, has 
been magnified into " the thronged array of the native* 
flotilla, " through which the steamer "crashed, " " crush- 
ing the frail boats, mangling and destroying their 
erews.'' We here witness a splendid power of exaggera- 
tion, whioh none but a confident genius would venture 
to exert. We admire this bold flourish of imagination; 
but our regret is, that it should be employed to east 
odium at our countrymen in the Eastern Seas. But; 
in addition to this, we perceive, heaped upon the heads 
of 8ir James Brooke and his companions, accusations 
of murder, cruelty, and plunder, so utterly atrocious 
and revolting, that they defeat their object. A vein 
of virulent malignity runs through their charges, which 
we are ashamed to Bee. However, we shall not pass 
in review all their statements. They have been cir- 
culated, and, in company with them, the manly denial 
by the Governor of Labium, who singly takes them up, 
singly proves them untrue, and in a mass, characterises 
them as they deserve. " I blush for the authors of 
this monstrous calumny, lest they should be unable 
to blush for themselves. I claim, as a gentleman, 
the ordinary credit due to every man, for good sens* 
and humanity. I can appeal to all present whether 
any inhumanity has been committed in the late expe- 
dition." Sir James discovered, with surprise, that the 
lawless and bloodthirsty pirates of Borneo found advo- 
cates in the Christian community of Singapore ; but 
when we find writers in the very heart of European 
refinement, advocating pirates and piracy, palliating 
every species of cruelty, and excusing the murder of 
women, shall we feel astonishment when a journalist 
— probably of Malayan blood — in the remote outskirts 
of civilization, deprecates all interference with this mis- 
erable, harassing, and destructive system f 

But against the personal defamation of his charac- 
ter, we leave the Rajah to defend himself. He best 
knows its sources, and can very well shield himself 
against the attacks of private libellers. It is with the 
public policy of this country that our present purpose 
is, and therefore it is well to consider what we are to 
conclude from the assertion that, according to their 
present aspect, the recent operations appear to be a 
war between Rajah Brooke and his unfriendly Dyak 
neighbours, The question* j>at, of which of hjt titles, 



Governor of Labuan, or Consul in Borneo, does Sir 
James avail himself to authorise his instructions to the 
British officer in command ? It was a contest, it is 
said, between our countrymen and some neighbouring 
chiefs ; a private war, the result of private animosity, 
springing out of the collision of private interests. It 
was not in defence of Labuan, not of English traders 
in Borneo, not of the general commerce of the Archi- 
pelago, bnt for the aggrandisement of Sarawak — a 
territory held by Brooke by a foreign title, in virtue of 
a grant (or an alleged grant) from a foreign prince. 

Such is the ground of complaint. But the commer- 
cial community of Singapore, speaking through their 
admirable organ, the Free Pre**, sufficiently refute the 
whole of it. " Sarawak," they say, " has no direct in- 
terest in these proceedings greater than Singapore ; 
the Rajah of Sarawak has no advantage to gain from 
the suppression of piracy greater than the inhabitants 
of Singapore, or any other settlement in these seas. 
His territory is less molested by the marauding tribes 
than any other province, because its own strength is 
sufficient for its self-protection, although not equal to 
the pursuit and discomfiture of the pirates in their 
fortified strongholds." A gun-boat, aud twenty armed 
prahus, protect his coast, which, since Keppcl's visit 
in 1842, was never attacked until July, 1849, when the 
flotilla was momentarily withdrawn, and an immediate 
visit was the consequence. These truths are unpalat- 
able to the Singapore pirate advocates, who are some- 
what bold in their modification of facts. The popu- 
lation of Sarawak is now thirty thousand — they re- 
duce it by two-thirds. A small police force only is 
necessary, since each Dyak tribe has its head man, or 
Otang Kaya, responsible to the Datus, and these to 
the Government, whilst a system of internal adminis- 
tration is maintained, which is admirably adapted to 
preserve peace. A policy should be applauded or con- 
demned on its results ; and the fruits of Sir James 
Brookt's measures in Sarawak may be indicated by a 
glance at the crimes committed in his territory, under 
his sway. In eight years five murders have been per- 
petrated, and two men seriously stabbed. These, with 
common pilferings, constitutes all that can be laid to 
the charge of that large population during that long 
space of time. 

This is true civilization ; when men are turned from 
savage practices to the amenities of social life ; from 
thievish idleness to honest industry ; from head-hunt- 
ing to the building of houses and boats, to rice plant- 
ing, and garden cultivation ; from roving in the woods 
to domestic habits in villages and towns ; from piracy 
to commerce ; from heathenism to Christianity. Whilst 
constructing the basis of social order, our coun- 
tryman is sowing the good seed of Christianity. On 
the 28th of last August he laid the foundation-stone 
of the Church of St. Thomas, in Sarawak, and he will 
shortly behold the gratifying spectacle of a Dyak con- 
gregation gathering under the roof of a Christian house 
of worsfiip, in acknowledgment of the true God. 

But the main question is, whether Sir James Brooke 
is authorised to operate against the Sarebas and 8a- 
ksrran pirates, as well as all the other buccaneering 
communities of the Indian Seas. That these tribes are 
piratical, has been so indubitably proved, that not a 
shadow of doubt on the subject remains in the minds 
of any who we in the lewt acquainted with the free- 

booting systems of the Archipelago. It required some 
courage, in the first instance, to deny this truth ; but 
we have seen of what turpitude a philanthropic econo- 
mist is capable, and are, therefore, not surprised when, 
in the face of numerous authorities, writers venture to 
place their ignorance in opposition to the knowledge 
of a gentleman who merits the encouraging applause 
of all civilized humanity, who cherishes warm sympa- 
thies for the plundered and oppressed, who is labour- 
ing zealously to plant the civilization of Europe amid 
the wilds of insular Asia, and to graft upon the minds 
of heathen and degraded races a belief in that religion 
at once the purest and most ennobling that has ever, 
in any age, or any quarter of the world, commanded 
the veneration of mankind. 

On the 85th of October last, since the return of 
Sir James Brooke from England to his territory of 
Sarawak, he started with his suite for Brune, the Sul- 
tan's residence. The particulars of the transaction 
we derive from a private journal. Skirting the green 
shores of that province, and passing the little islands 
of Moerra and Chermin, "lie Jolly Bachelor," and 
a small steamer, with two boats, entered the 
Borneo river. Beautiful undulating hills roll away 
on either bank. Some parts were covered with 
jungle, some lay waste and naked. These were 
formerly flourishing plantations of pepper, bat piracy 
had destroyed them. Arriving at the city, which is, 
for the most part, bnilt on piles in the water, Sir 
James Brooke proceeded towards the Sultan's resi- 
dence, which is composed of a cluster of fantastic 
houses, and, amid salvos of artillery, landed. Mean- 
while, crowds of boats put forth upon the river — from 
the little hollowed log, navigated by a child, to the 
cumbrous canoe, paddled by numerous men, and the 
shores were covered with curious multitudes, watching 
the movements of the strangers. They now came in 
a peaceful manner, with a small force ; but the people 
remembered when we hadformerly advanced with war- 
steamers and gun boats, under the fire of the Brune 
batteries, and driven the piratical Sultan from his city. 
The treaty was presented to Omar Ali, in a silver box 
with, a silver seal. The old prince received it humbly, 
and after a few days a great meeting was called to his 
council hall, and the motives of the convention with 
Great Britain explained to the principal chieftains of 
the place. The treaty renews to the Sultan of Borneo 
the pledge we gave in 1824 to the Netherlands Govern- 
ment — that we should endeavour to suppress piracy. 
Since our convention with the Hague, it has been made 
the subject of reproach to us, that, having engaged to 
" concur effectually" with onr Dutch friends in the 
project, we have neglected the task ; but now that we 
have commenced with serious purpose the defence of 
commerce in the Archipelago, the philanthropic econo- 
mists, with their organ in Lombard Street, and their 
little favourite at Singapore, burst into loud denuncia- 
tions of our policy. Their pathetic appeals in behalf 
of the bloodthirsty pirates of Borneo evince the ten- 
derness of their sympathies, and the malleable nature 
of their intellects. But their insinuations against the 
motives of our countryman illustrate another and less 
creditable trait. To these, however, it has been well 
replied — does Sir James Brooke covet Dyak plunder 
— some mats, Bome fowls, some pigs — that he should 
employ the people of his territory on distant expedi- 




tions, when their labour at home would — did private 
reasons direct his oonduct — conduce infinitely more to 
the advancement of his self-interest, by swelliug the 
streams of revenue, improving the soil, and piling up 
the accumulation of wealth f 

One curious fact appears to have been entirely over- 
looked by the English critics. Had they observed it, 
it must have ruffled the smooth stream of their com- 
placent calumny. With a selfish ruler of Sarawak, 
peace in his territory and gold in his coffers must be 
the ends of ambition ; and Sir James Brooke, on fre- 
quent occasions, might have secured both, by pursuing 
a policy, which he rejected with an indignation some- 
what inconsistent with the sordid, greedy, selfish, un- 
principled, cruel, ferocious, and inhuman character for 
which his enviers at home and his enemies abroad 
have not blushed to give him credit. 

The pirate chiefs have made numerous overtures to 
Sir James Brooke, offering to establish the same rela- 
tions with him which existed between them and Sheriff 
8ahib. What was the nature of this agreement ? It 
secured peace to the latter, and — a large share of the 
booty. This proves much. It places beyond doubt the 
fact that the chiefs were pirates, that they openly 
avowed their course of life, that they understood the 
Rajah's object in the suppressing of the system, and 
that he rejected a proposition which only allowed him 
still stronger justification for attacking the buccaneer- 
ing powers. Another consideration should not be for- 
gotten. In the course of a few years the piratical 
communities will purchase European fire-arms, and learn 
the use of them, when it will be seen that their inno- 
cent volleys were intended to be rather destructive. 
A conflict with them would, in that case, involve im- 
mense bloodshed on both sides ; whereas, by following 
up one blow by another, we may uproot the system, 
ere it has recovered from the shock, and recoils upon 
us with a vigour taught by ourselves, to our own de- 
struction. It is no wholesale slaughter that we advo- 
cate. On the contrary, let all peaceful means be tried. 
Let conciliation be pushed to its utmost verge, let 
warnings be given and expected, and let the sword be 
resorted to when all other instruments prove useless. 
But when, as with theSarebasand Sokarron pirates, every 
expedient of humanity, every device of friendly over- 
ture, reasoning, promising, and threats, have been em- 
ployed without effect, it is only the puerile whimperings 
of an effeminate humanitarianism that will condemn 
the resort to force. The fleet recently destroyed was 
engaged in a war against the commerce of the Archi- 
pelago. It was cruising on the highways of trade, 
ravaging peaceful coasts, and visiting harmless com- 
munities — landing pirates at places of small population, 
to murder defenceless men, and make captives of wo- 
men and children. They were arrested in their career 
of plunder, and if called to a terrible account for their 
atrocities, it was because they would display no sign 
of submission ; and there remains no donbt but that, had 
the British force been inferior to the piratical, every 
man would have fallen victims to the krisses of the 
enemy. It, therefore, seems indisputable that the 
Sarebas and Sakarrans were pirates ; that they were 
surrounded whilst on a buccaneering expedition, and 
that the conflict was severe and protracted — not a 
massacre of unresisting, unarmed, and innocent traders. 
The circle of the question, consequently, again brings us 
round to the question, of right, 

In reference, therefore, to the treaty concluded in 
May, 1817, between the Queen of England and the 
Sultan of Borneo — which we refer to because, possibly, 
the critio's knowledge will not go back as far as 1824 — 
we cannot fail to perceive in it not only the justifica- 
tion but the imperative duty of our assaults upon the 
piratical system. In the ninth article of that conven- 
tion, it is stipulated that two contracting powers shall 
take all possible means to suppress piracy in the seas, 
straits, and rivers, subject to their respective control 
or influence. The agreement made between the British 
Government and the Borneo Sultan remains as a me- 
mento of the service conduced to humanity by the pur- 
suit of our energetic policy. Formerly, the capital of 
Omar Ali's territory was a rendezvous of piracy, a 
mart where the plunderer sold his booty ; and he traf- 
ficked under the protection of the prince, and with his 
assistance. The old Sultan, indeed, was little better 
than a pirate himself, and ventured so far in his auda- 
cious temerity, as to fire upon the British flag. He 
was severely punished, forced to abandon his freeboot- 
ing propensities, and entered upon that honest course, 
which, as he learned by experience, was the only link 
which could bind him securely to a friend as powerful aa 
Great Britain. Consequently, the pirates have disap- 
peared from the waters of Borneo ; for Labuan is the 
key to that splendid river, and the city may one day 
again become the Venice of the Indian seas, the centre 
of commerce, and prosperity and European influence — 
radiating from it as from a centre — be extended through- 
out the length and breadth of the Archipelago. Three 
powers, however, contest our right to establish a do- 
minion there. Spain, in her prostration, retains energy 
enough to protest feebly against our policy. Holland, 
with bold effrontery, contends that we are trenching 
on her territories, and France lavishes upon us her 
usual redundant acrimony, repeating the oft-told tale 
of our passion for intrigue, our contempt for interna- 
tional rights, our insatiate ambition, and our treacherous 
attempts to undermine the authority of all other 

But what has our neighbour to do with Labuan P 
From the Hague we naturally expect jealousy; but with 
France this rancour can spring from no other source 
than unqualified hostility to all the measures of our 
countrymen^m every part of the globe. One Parisian 
journal, however, inspired by an ex-consul, makes a re- 
markable discovery. It announced, with pompous' con- 
fidence, thatM.Fontannier, formerly the representativeof 
France at Singapore, had encountered Sir James Brooke, 
and detected his real character, his genuine position, hit 
proper title, and his hidden views. He was not Go- 
vernor of Labuan ; he was not Consul to the Sultan 
of Borneo ; he was not the Commissioner of Great 
Britain to the independent chiefs of the Archipelago ; 
but he was "intriguer-general" against the Dutch. 
That is — he was a sort of diplomatic spy, in the pay 
of the English Cabinet, and his duties were, secretly 
tc undermine the iuflueuce of Holland, and, by insidious 
arts, to injure the character and the authority of the 
Netherland Government throughout their territories in 
the Eastern Seas. This revelation astonished the na- 
tive mind in France, and many a diplomatic eye waa 
upturned in melancholy marvel at this new detection 
of La Pelade Albion. But what was the reason of M. 
Fontwuiier's anger? Before Sir James Brooke had 



been installed in his post of duty, the impetuous French 
man was down upon him with a severe inquisition as 
to the powers to whom he was accredited. No one 
accustomed to diplomacy could have been ignorant that 
the proper quarter for such questions was the Foreign 
Office, and as our countryman politely declined to an< 
swer them, M. Fontannier wrote him down a spy, a low 
intriguer — one whose office was to work silently and 
secretly against the influence of Holland. The ex- 
planation is obvious; hut another great ground of 
foreign hostility to the Treaty of Borneo is the provi 
sion in the tenth article, that the Sultan having ceded 
Labuan and its little companion isles to us, shall make 
no similar cession to any other power, without the con- 
sent of the British Government. The same provision 
has been made in our convention with the Sulu, and it 
will destroy the roots of much national altercation. Ri- 
val powers protest against this article of the treaty ; but 
the deepest examination into history places our right 
beyond dispute. 

These are the great springs of French, of Dutch, of 
Spanish jealousy. Touch them, and a vast framework 
of objections, protests, arguments— even dimly shadowed 
threats — rises to view ; but a steady perseverance in our 
proper course of policy can be productive of no evil 

To the critic's question. By what title does Sir James 
Brooke undertake the extirpation of piracy? The an- 
swer is, by his dual authority as Governor of Labuan, and 
Commissioner to the independent chiefs of the Archi- 
pelago. As Governor, his duty is to protect British ter- 
ritory, to encourage trade, and open the avenues of 
commerce. As Commissioner, be must show what are 
the intentions, the wishes, the plans of Great Britain ; 
and when engaged in missions to piratical princes, it 
will be a poor tale to tell, that this country has threa- 
tened, has obtained promises, has made agreements, has 
given warnings without number, and that all these are 
disregarded because the pirates have had no example 
of their power. It is a maxim in politics, in discipline, 
in all cases where authority is concerned, that a threat 
should never be uttered, unless its fulfilment be con- 
templated. We threatened the Sarebas and Sakarran 
pirates; we visited them ; put them on their guard; 
warned them of punishment ; declared our purpose to 
pot them down ; and listened to their declarations of 
amendment. Would it have been consistent, after this, 
to have allowed a fleet of a hundred and twenty prahus, 
laden with the fresh fruits of plunder and massacre, to 
enter their rivers without molestation — to ravage a 
village, and retire to their strongholds, with exultation 
in their success, and contempt for our power. For 
what was Labuan established a British settlement ? To 
be the home of an idle Governor, or a centre of trade f 

Among the critics of our policy, there prevails a 
singular theory respecting the dnties of a Governor. 
Labuan, when the English flag staff was erected, was 
all but uninhabited. The objects of this settlement 
were the attraction of a trading population ; the estab- 
lishment of a depot seven hundred miles nearer Hong 
Kong than Singapore ; the protection of the neighbour- 
ing coast ; and the shelter of vessels driven by storms, 
or pursued by pirates, to seek a port of refuge. Ac- 
cordingly, a Government was formed; its members 
were sent out ; and a force allowed them for defence 
— a'force occasionally withdrawn through the caprice, 

of the admiral on the station. The economists com- 
plain that Sir James Brooke, as Governor, is not con- 
stantly resident at the island. They would have him 
perform the duties of a chief police-magistrate over his 
suite — the few marines and the native population num- 
bering, on the whole, about seven hundred persons. 
He is to inhabit his Government- house ; watch every 
one ; place everything in order ; maintain peace, and 
sit in royal inactivity, wishing commerce would come 
to the port ; hoping to see a population growing up ; 
lamenting the existence of piracy ; abstaining from di- 
recting our naval officers to perform any duties, and 
playing altogether a very humble imitation of King 
Log's part. Meanwhile, from all the rivers on the 
piratical coast issue forth, in fleets of armed prahus, 
hordes of hereditary buccaneers, to scatter themselves 
over the sea, to devastate peaceful shores ; to visit and 
plunder trading communities; to massacre the resisting, 
and bear off the helpless to slavery — to blockade the 
highways of trade, and sweep off the waters every mer- 
chant vessel sufficiently weak that crosses their track. 
Rich cargoes are to be seized in sight of the British 
flag, because it would be cruel to fire upon the pirates — 
poor simple innocents — hitherto described as so amiable 
and harmless. English war steamers, ships, and boats, 
are to be lying at anchor, whilst this rapine spreads 
along the shore, because it would be appalling to attack 
the freebooting fleets. Women are to be murdered 
with diabolical ferocity. English vessels are to be as- 
saulted and rifled, and their crews cut to pieces, be- 
cause a London critio and a Singapore print, animated 
by the encouragement of parties in this country, 
are pleased to denounce the Labuan settlement as a 
job, Sir James Brooke as an adventurer, the pirates 
as simple innocents, their destruction as indiscrimi- 
nate warfare, and the British public as the credulous 
victims of a fraudulent self-interest. 

But the great commercial communities of the United 
Kingdom better understand the philosophical theories 
of trade. They petitioned in favour of the Labuan 
settlement ; they foresaw its advantages ; they admired 
with generous enthusiasm the long course of exertion, 
of unwearied patience and self-sacrifice, by which Sir 
James Brooke attached the North of Europe to the 
magnificent Indian islands. Those regions, rich in the 
materials of trade, lay neglected, their waters were 
scoured by pirates, and their commerce languished 
under the heavy discouragement of these accumulated 
evils. Things have changed, and our recent policy 
has communicated an impulse to enterprise, which must, 
at no distant day, be felt by all the manufacturers of 
Great Britain. The Governor of Labuan, prompted by 
enlightened views, knows well the duties of his position, 
and is labouring to throw open the gates of commerce; 
to scatter the predatory fleets that prey upon it ; to 
establish relations with the native powers of the Archi- 
pelago, and develop the system under which the whole 
region has developed its resources so slowly.- In this 
we find the justification of his conduct ; but it is not 
true, aa stated by the critics, that whilst ostensibly 
serving his Government at Labnan, he is worshipping 
Mammon on his own farm at Sarawak. Having es- 
tablished himself at the new settlement, he remained 
there until a fever, resulting from the unfortunate 
selection of a site for the town, prostrated him at the 
door of death ; and it was not until warned that a fur- 




ther stay would be fatal, that he removed from the 
island. But did he retire to ruralise in Sarawak ? He 
went on the journey to Brune ; he went on his two 
important missions to Sulu, and concluded a treaty 
with the Sultan of the islands — a treaty which will 
effectually and peacefully arrest the growth of piracy 
there where it was formerly most rampant; which 
secures great commercial advantages to this country, 
and settles a momentous political question. Even 
when at Sarawak, he scarcely allowed himself a day for 
his private affairs, but was constantly working in the 
interest of Great Britain. It is not for us to defend 
Sir James Brooke, unless his conduot as a public ser- 
vant be answerable to his duty, and whenever his policy 
calls for censure, we shall as readily subject him to it, 
as we now defend him from the expressions of reckless 
defamers. " If it is a crime," remarked the Singapore 
Free Press, " that, when forced to leave Labuan on ac- 
count of his health, Sir James Brooke, instead of seek- 
ing amusement and change of scene in other climes, 
devoted his time to accomplish an object of the great- 
est benefit to the public, then, all we can say is, that 
we wish we had many more such criminals." 

Prom this, the course of our discussion leads us to 
the history of Sir James Brooke's acquisition of the 
territory of Sarawak. It has been related by the critics, 
in a manner which does credit to their ingenuity. They 
have concocted a skilful notion, somewhat amusing, 
and cunningly told ; but the true details of the tran- 
saction will be found in the Rajah's own journals. It 
will there be seen that the little insinuation of "an 
alleged grant" is an airy feathering-shaft intended to 
wound our countryman's character by oblique impli- 

In this manner it would be no difficult task to 
enumerate all the charges, insinuations, and attacks 
made against Sir James Brooke, and singly to con- 
fute them, prove them untrue or frivolous, and expose 
their secret sources. In this way it would be easy 
to destroy all the arguments adduced against our 
recent policy in the Indian Archipelago, and melt the 
flimsy fabric of declamation, which describes piratical 
communities, celebrated for atrocities, as innocent and 
simple tribes — which relates their overthrow with 
frantic horror — denounces their chastisement as a 
massacre, and characterises a protracted conflict be- 
tween a pirate fleet of 120 prahus, and a small Bri- 
tish force, as a reckless slaughter of defenceless 
traders — who returned volley for volley during six 
hours, and fired the first shot. But, further to pro- 
long these observations were a task of supererogation. 
That the Sarebas and Sakarrans are pirates of the 
most fierce and formidable description, may be proved 
by tens of thousands of witnesses. The whole popu- 
lation of Banjor, Sambas, and Fartiana — the Dutch 
residents; the English settlers in Sarawak; the 
Malays of the provinces of Samatahan, Sadarg, Linga, 
Kaluka, Siriki, Rejang, Malo, Palo, Bruit, Eya, 
Mucha, Buitulu, and all the other neighbouring dis- 
tricts ; the peaceful tribes of the northern and southern 
Natunas ; the wild inhabitants of the Tambelan Isles ; 
and numerous other communities, will offer their testi- 
mony ou the point ; and the knowledge of numerous 
piracies committed — of merchant vessels seised — of 
villages plundered and burnt— of fields and plantations 
wasted — of murders innumerable, and kidnappings 

beyond calculation — recall themselves to the memories 
of all who have watched the recent development of 
the Indian Archipelago. These faots are historical ; 
the denial of them requires a boldness which would 
deny that Rome rose, declined, and fell. The parti- 
cular fleet destroyed was proved to have been 
engaged in the perpetration of robberies on sea and 
land — of horrid massacres and slave captures; and 
yet, in the face of all these facts, the English critics 
describe them as "innocent and simple natives." 

" Bat, &s a dog that turns the spit 
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet 
To climb the wheel, bat all in vain, 
Hit own weight brings him down again; 

And still lies in the self-same place 
Where, at the setting out, ho was." 

Therefore, as it is pleasant to convict an adversary 
out of his own mouth, we claim attention for the 
Straits' Times, which very voluntarily justifies our 
policy. Referring to the recent Spanish expedition 
against the Balamini pirates, whose depredations were 
in violation of a treaty with the Sulu Sultan, to whom 
they were nominally subject, it remarks that they made 
descents on the Philippine coasts, and that conse- 
quently " their' extermination was justifiable and praise- 
worthy." We do not go so far as the humane 
economist; extermination appears to us in a more 
serious light, and we prefer inflicting chastisement for 
depredations on English territory before the enemy 
has so multiplied his atrocities that nothing less than 
total annihilation can suffice. But it is the general 
characteristic of such commentaries, that they supply 
tho ready materials of their own refutation. Still, in 
justification of the Singapore critic, it should be re- 
marked, it is only in the particular instance of Sir 
James Brooke's policy that it affects sympathy for 
pirates. In every other quarter of the world he re- 
commends their suppression, and, even where tho 
Indian Archipelago is concerned, he displays warm 
feeling on the subject, unless the Governor of Labuan 
has attempted to perform this signal service of 
humanity. Then the whole complexion of the case 
is changed. It becomes cruel to attack the free- 
booters — it is unjust to arrest their career of atrocity— 
it is a libel to accuse them of blood-thirsty practices— 
and it is a shame upon the British reputation that 
such transactions pass almost unchallenged in Parlia- 
ment, and are applauded by the united voioe of publio 
opinion. With the economists at home it is far 
otherwise. They form a society for the propagation 
of piracy — for the protection of sea-robbers — for the 
extirpation of commerce, and the obstruction of civi- 
lization. At their head is a great cosmopolitan phi- 
lanthropist, and one of our most experienced lecturers, 
well known in the Tower Hamlets, and they are served 
openly by two or three acrimonious individuals, who 
should have supplied themselves with information, 
previous to their headlong onslaught on the rising 
reputation of the Rajah Brooke, the successor of 
Sir Stamford Raffles. 

None have forgotten the storm which was raised by 
the Edinburgh Review, when it entered this field of 
controversy. It seriously injured the cause of the 
economical humanitarians, and such a tempest of 
debate was exoited, that we involuntarily called to mind 
tho clamorous wants aftl^ Bja^; Homer compare. 



the entering amour of the edraneiafr battalions to 
the light ihed abroad by the blase of » foreat oon- 
flagration la the mountains. This vat readied by the 
account of piracy. But then came tha economist*:— 

" \nlmi tfTifturm Una tttXXa 

X*mm, # ytfmw, n amwav HvXt*mitipit 

'Arm m XuftSu, K«wv«iMr tstfi "fu4(* 

"Mb mi him rtrm+mJ mytiXXtmirmi *ri(ryi*ti 

SAmyynSmt trp amli&mn, #y»af«£»i it »• Xuptu * ' 

So, continuing to tone it as the okssiemuse would 
•in**, the many critics from the many offices, and the 
many oommittee rooms, thronged upon the Soemmv 
ojaa plain, and the whole earth 'trembled under the 
feet of them and their organs. Bat their arguments are 
not erjnal in keenness to the Aehain swords, nor their 
facta m solidity to the Argite bucklers; and, though 
pressing forward with hot impetuosity whilst resist- 
ance was distant, they fell back in scattered and 
tumultuous route when a good phalanx of well-in- 
formed writers was detached to meet them. 

But let us leave poetical allegory, and return to the 
sober truth of the question. Since it has been asserted 
that piracy is a nuisance, but not formidable, we refer 
the reader to the list of square-rigged vessels cap- 
tured within the last thirty years by the buccaneers, 
and, as a modern instance, may allude to a recent 
disaster in the Indian Archipelago. 

In May last, Sir James Brooke visited Sulu, and 
concluded a treaty with the Sultan, and, on the last 
day of the month, departed for Malludu Bay, in the 
island of Banian. Here he met the Spanish Governor 
of Samboangan, who, with a force of seven gun-boats, 
was in search of pirates. He returned with hhn to 
Magindanao, and, whilst there, received intelligence 
thai an English whaler had been cut off by the buc- 
caneers. The mate and fire men escaped to Sam- 
boangan ; but the captain and the remainder of the 
erew fell victims in a ferocious massacre. These are 
the tender-hearted innocents of the writers In question, 
and thia is a corroboration of the statement that they 
have never attacked a square-rigged vessel This as- 
sertion is the more remarkable, since it emanated, it 
is believed, from an ancient historian of the Archi- 

But another, and a serious feature in this piratical 
system is, that it has almost destroyed the commerce 
of Singapore with Cochin China-— a trade of great 
value, and susceptible of immense development To 
a commercial people this must be of high importance ; 
since it is unnecessary to remind them, that, if the 
population of that region derive from Great Britain the 
materials of their clothing and consumption, the inter- 
course with them must be of a lucrative nature. 
Formerly, indeed, a regular succession of their vessels 
poured towards Singapore; but their numbers have been 
diminished gradually through the excessive peril of the 
voyage. Exposed as they are to danger of capture 
by Malay or Chinese pirates, they still, nevertheless, 
chug to the enterprise, and the numbers that actually 
run the gauntlet of that infested sea may afford an idea 
of the value of the trade thus shrunken and diminished. 
In the month of May last, an instance occurred which 
strongly illustrates the innocence and simplicity of 
the predatory hordes that sweep all the waters of the 

two Cochin Chinese vessel* left Singapore for their 

own pott. They were laden with good cargoes, and 
numerously manned. Escorted as far as Pedra Banca, 
by a gun-boat, they reached that point in safety ; but 
soaroely was this protection out of sight, than two 
Malay prahus bore down upon the traders. Imagin- 
ing them to be defenceless, the pirates at once fired 
a volley, and the merchants, who were aimed with 
muskets, replied by another. The Malays startled, 
prudently sheered off, and the Cochin Chinese pursued 
the voyage. Sailing for five days without molestation, 
they began to congratulate themselves on success, 
when a fleet of ten Chinese junks, in portentous array, 
crowded round the foremost prahu. Their pirate crewa 
at once crowded the deck, plundered property to the 
value of several thousand dollars, and generously 
leaving a supply of provisions barely sufficient for the 
rest of the voyage, sent the merchants empty-handed 
on their way. The other prahu, whioh had dropped 
far astern, also fell into the bands of these sea-thieves, 
who stript it of everything valuable, leaving only a 
scanty store of water, rice, and dried fish. The vessel 
then pursued its way, but again encountered the same 
fleet, and part of its crew leaped into the sea through 
alarm. The freebooters again boarded the prahu, 
erueUy maltreated the merchants, put them to a 
species of torture that they might confess where they 
had concealed their opium and money stores, and 
compelled them to turn over several times their sand- 
ballast to prevent any concealment of gold. Numerous 
other Cochin Chinese traders have, during the past 
season, suffered the same fate from the pirates of the 
Celestial empire, or those of the. Indian islands ; but 
the former are more humane than their predatory 
rivals. On one occasion a prahu, manned only by 
five persons, was captured by Malays, who severely 
wounded some of them, and they all only escaped 
death by seising planks and plunging into the sea. 
Tossed for some time noon its waves, they bad no 
prospect but that of perishing miserably amid the 
waters, when a magnanimous Chinese freebooter picked 
them np, and conveyed them to the lower coast of 
their own country. 

The instances of piracy in the Indian ArcliipelagO 
are countless, and a collection of the anecdotes con- 
nected with it could rival in bulk, and, doubtless, fat 
exceed in interest, Valentyn's four Dutch folios, or 
Crawfurd's ponderous, incongruous, and imperfect his* 
tory. Yet we find economist* at home, and philan- 
thropists abroad, pleading in favour of this infamous 
and destructive system. 

Allowing— what truth will hot permit us to con- 
cede—that square-rigged vessels rarely fall a prey to 
the pirates, this admission does not affect the question. 
It is not square-rigged vessels that, from all the ports, 
all the native depots, all the lesser islands of the 
further east, collect the materials of trade, carry them 
to the great marts, and accumulate them in vast 
stores, whence they are shipped in European ships for 
the great markets of the world. All this branoh of 
industry is confided to native merchants, who range 
the length and breadth of the Archipelago, collect 
the produce of the islands, bring down from the interior 
of the waters of the navigable streams the prodnc* 
tiona of Indian industry, and transport them to 
Singapore, to Penaug, to the Spanish and Dutch 
ports, and to Dobbo. By them it piled up that j» 



mense accumulation of merchandise which is annually 
distributed throughout the world, which has fostered to 
prosperity the youthful community of Singapore — the 
monopoly of which was long coveted by the Dutch as 
the richest privilege of trade. Its loss would be 
a serious one to the national welfare ; its increase 
would be enormous, but for piracy. All who compre- 
hend the economy of commerce, and our present 
relations with the luxuriant regions of the Indian 
Archipelago, know the amount of British manufactures 
annually transported to our settlements there. These 
are all distributed among the native population by 
native traders, in native vessels, and every prahu that 
floats on those waters runs imminent risk of capture 
by pirates. Thousands are seized and plundered — 
thousands are prevented from engaging in commerce ; 
whole tribes remain naked, savage, and apathetic — 
whole provinces and islands lie unexplored — whole 
mines of wealth continue un wrought — the whole 
region is undeveloped, because this vast and ancient 
system is allowed to flourish. 
There is a philosophy in trade as in all other 

things, and none can comprehend this who does not 
perceive the infinite extension that civilization would 
enjoy were the piratical hordes of the Indian Archi- 
pelago restrained from their depredations. This is a 
commercial country, and will not be deluded by the 
artifices of a whimpering humanitarianism, or the 
flimsy sophistry of a false economy. It knows the 
value of our commerce in the Indian Archipelago- 
it has been shown how great may be its future deve- 
lopment, and it is aware how severe are the restric- 
tions imposed upon it by the depredations of a 
formidable piratical system. The policy, therefore, 
which protects commerce from this great enemy, as 
long as it is characterised by humanity and justice, 
must be supported by all who have at heart the interests 
of their own country, and the welfare of the Indian 
Archipelago. That fertile region is not as a mine 
whose quick exhaustion floods the owner's coffers with 
a sudden tide of wealth; but as a vast neglected 
estate, whose productiveness will be in proportion to 
the care expended on its cultivation. 



( Continued from pagt 44. J 



Let us perfectly understand one another, reader. 
If you imagine that I am about to give you a full, 
true, and particular account of all the lions in the 
city— to enumerate, in guide-book fashion, the 
thousand-and-one remarkable buildings, and to 
dwell, with stupifying minuteness, on the contents 
of museums, churches, palaces, arsenals, and so 
forth, I give you fair warning that you will be 
grievously disappointed. Such dreary rule-and- 
square drudgery would of itself fill a huge quarto 
volume, and even then the subject would be far 
from being exhausted. I only profess to notice 
snob striking external objects, and such general 
traits of manners, as come immediately under my 
personal observation or inquiry, and can be cor- 
rectly described by a stranger ; for it would be 
absurd presumption to affect to write aught of 
higher pretension on the strength of a few weeks' 
residence. Nothing but a very long sojourn, a 
perfect familiarity with the manners of the people, 
and a thorough knowledge of the language, would 
enable an Englishman to authoritatively and fully 
depict life in the capital of Denmark, and to pleas- 
ingly illustrate it with legendary lore.* My object, 

* I know only one gentleman who eminently possesses all these 
qualifications, and I hare strongly and repeatedly urged him to 
write a work on the subject, which could hardly fail to be re- 
plete with interest. I allude to Mr. Charles Beckwith, who 
has distinguished himself here by his Danish-English works, and 
it favourably known to the English public, by his admirable 
translations of his friend, Hans Christian Andersen's, " Bataar,'' 
« Zombi* m tlx Barb MomUmu,'' " Tmt Bmmtittt, W 

so far as Copenhagen is concerned, is to give a 
tolerably clear and faithful general idea of the place 
and people, with notices of a few objects of really 
surpassing interest ; and happy shall I be if my 
humble sketohes prove instrumental in creating a 
desire on the part of the public for a work of the 
description above spoken of. 

At the time I pen this, I am familiar with the 
external features of nearly every part of Copen- 
hagen, and feel sufficiently qualified, therefore, to 
give one man's humble but honest impressions of 
its salient features and general characteristics. 
So sensitive are nearly all men to the first sight of 
both cities and individuals, that sometimes the 
most intimate subsequent acquaintance fails to 
chango the original intensely vivid conception, no 
matter whether it is right or wrong. Undoubtedly, 
many a traveller who glances for the7first time at 
a landscape bathed in golden sunlight, or who first 
visits a city when it is unusually prosperous, gay, 
and splendid, is impressed with a correspondingly 
exaggerated notion of the beauty of the one, and 
the attractions of the other. But let him first see 
the same landscape when a black storm is louring 
over it, and first see the same city when its com- 
merce is depressed, and its dwellers spiritless — his 
opinion would be just the reverse. And yet that 
opinion would, in either oase, be an erroneous one. 
For my own part, I hare a singular affection for the 
road or street by which I may first enter a strange 
city ; and however long I may afterwards sojourn 
there, and however humble or uninteresting in it- 
self the road or street in question may be, I after- 
wards tread it with greater pleasure, and more 


frequently than any other. It happened that I 
entered Copenhagen in a way by no means calcu- 
lated to bias any impressions of it, and yet the 
very first time I trod its streets I imbibed opinions 
concerning it which every day's acquaintance only 
more strongly confirms. j 

Copenhagen contains about 130,000 inhabitants, 
and is situated on the Sound, about nine English 
miles distant from the opposite coast of Sweden. 
It is as flat a place as can well be conceived, nor 
are there any elevated grounds very near it. The 
view of Copenhagen from the sea is very striking, 
owing to its having on the west side an enormous 
mass of dockyards, forts, batteries, &c. It is in- 
closed with ramparts, elevated to a considerable 
height, and forming delightful walks planted with 
trees. There are also beautiful promenades in 
other parts of the city. Many parts of the town 
are intersected with canals. 

Copenhagen is emphatically a city of palaces, 
of museums, of public buildings. This is its grand 
distinctive feature, and to appreciate it fully 
nothing but a personal visit will suffice. No person 
of ordinary intelligence can walk through it with- 
out, at every step, exclaiming — This is a capital ! 
The number of grand edifices belonging to the 
State are truly astonishing, and yet, taking the 
city all through, there is not one erection of extra- 
ordinary grandeur — not a palace, not a church, 
not a square, which will bear comparison with 
those of many other cities. It is true that some 
of the Government buildings are of amazing extent, 
and are well built ; but, generally speaking, they 
are essentially plain in their architecture, and ex- 
hibit little grandeur of conception. Some of the 
churches are very extraordinary erections, and con- 
tain paintings and sculptures (especially the latter) 
of inestimable value. There are theatres, a very 
grand casino, and many places of exhibition. The 
generality of the streets are narrow, and the people 
are surprisingly mixed up with the carriages, on 
the middle of the road, in the narrowest streets ; 
but as no vehicle by law is allowed to drive at a 
greater rate than one Danish mile (about five Eng- 
lish) per hour, accidents rarely occur. The houses 
have all a substantial and yet a light appearance, 
owing to the great number of their windows. 
Some are lofty, especially those facing the ram- 
parts. Although there is not one truly grand 
street in Copenhagen, there are astonishingly few 
mean ones. Nearly every street throughout the 
city is at least respectable. You will search in 
vain for those dirty, dismal, fetid, sweltering alleys 
and courts common to all English towns ; and you 
will look equally in vain for any of those repulsive 
street scenes common in the latter. Beggars are 
certainly not unknown here, but they are exceed- 
ingly few — no miserable objects in rags and tatters 
ever disgust the eye ; and never yet have I met a 
drunken man in Copenhagen, although I have 
traversed it at all hours. 

There is no lack, as I shall hereafter show, of in- 
door gaiety in Copenhagen; but the general aspect of 
the city, to a foreigner accustomed to the stunning 
bustle of English towns, is decidedly dull. Partly, 
this arise* from the very little show the shops make, 
VOL, xvn.— BO. oxcxv. 


the comparatively trifling business traffic in the 
streets, and also from the leisurely habits of the 
people themselves. The fact is, the Danes have 
not yet learned to live in a hurry; but, although they 
are " slow,'' they are steady and sure ; although 
they are a century behind England in many of the 
leading improvements of the age, they are more 
than a century ahead of England in generally dif- 
fused plenty and comfort ; and although they do 
not gallop through life as thongh for a wager, they 
know how to enjoy it rationally. My countrymen ! 
I scorn to flatter you — what I here say may be 
unpalatable to some among yon; but it is true. 

[I regret that, in order to send off my M.S. in 
time for publication in Tait for February, I must 
here bring this brief general sketch to an abrupt 
close ; but the reader may rest assured that, ere I 
have done with Copenhagen, I will do my best to 
give him such minute details of its outer and inner 
scenes, and such notices of its prominent buildings, 
as will, I trust, eonfor a very fair idea of the 



Christmas Eve ! Yes, it hath come again ; and 
as der Wandernde Vogel sitteth all alone, whither 
have his thoughts fled ? Listen! for his heart is 
very full, and out of that fullness will he speak. 

" There is a vision fills this foreign air;" o'er 
land and ocean dees my ken pierce, and I read one 
word, traced as it were by an angel's pen, in the 
Heaven beyond— yea, one word only, and that word 
is — Home ! Vividly do I picture to myself my old 
paternal hearth, and the family circle assembled 
around it. There is a vacancy on which the eyes 
of father and of mother are fixed as on a sacred 
spot. What " fills the place of their absent child V 
Search thy own heart, reader, and probe not mine ! 

Throughout the length and breadth of old Eng- 
land at this moment what re-unions are taking 
place ! Children, who have been scattered far and 
wide, are once more assembled beneath their 
parents' roof, and tears of joy ore dropping from 
aged eyelids, and kisses of welcome are being ex- 
changed, and words of love and gladness are sweetly 
showering around. I see, I feel, I hear all this — 
I, the lonely Wandernde Vogel, who am far away 
in person, but present in spirit. My soul throbs in 
sympathy, and from its very depth blesses them, 
and prays that theirs may indeed be a happy 

Cheerily, heart o' mine ! and in fancy join the 
swelling chorus ! 

"Ho! ho! for Christmas ! 

By Island, Sea, and Isthmus ! 
There's no old bo; brings to much joy, 
As jolly, holly Christmas !" 

To-morrow will be Christmas Day! 0, ye visit- 
ing winds ! bear the glad tidings east, west, north, 
and south, and tell every land, clime, and people, to 
cast aside all troubles, and be happy on that thrice 
blessed day! 0. ye birds o' the air! whisper to 
those who coll themselves Christians, and bid them, 




•re they prepare to spend their Saviour's natal 
day, to look around, and, remembering the preoepti 
He inculcated on earth, gratefully and gladly give 
of their abundance, that their poor brethren also 
may fittingly oelebrate the glorious advent Bid 
them eheer the sad heart — raise the drooping hoad 
— heal the bruised spirit — clothe the shivering 
naked — fill the hungry with good things — and 
teach all to join in fervent gratitude to the Great 
Giver of every gift. Bid thorn do this, and, even 
on earth, assuredly, they will have their reward ! 
• • • • • • • 

Christmas-tide is looked forward to in Denmark 
as the great national holiday of the year. There 
is no extraordinary display heralding it in the shops, 
nor any outward indication whatever of its ap- 
proach ; bnt from Christmas Eve to New Year's 
Day, both inclusive, is ono period of general recrea- 
tion and good-will among all classes. There are no 
very peculiar customs observed in Copenhagen on 
New Year's Eve— at any rale, none requiring par- 
ticular mention. 

On Christmas Day I was -one of a nappy party 
met to keep the anniversary in true Danish fashion. 
It was a delightful family re-union ; tho guests, with 
Aw exceptions, being more or less akin. The hour 
at which all tradesmen dine in Copenhagen is one 
o'clock, but professional people and the upper elasscs 
dine at three, which was the usual dinner hour of 
my friends in question, although on this oocasion 
we did not sit down to the hospitable board until 
between four and five. As I then glanced around, 
I truly thought the scene worthy of the genial 
pencil of Kenny Meadows, for he alone, of all 
artists whom I know, would have caught its pecu- 
liar inspiration ; and, by a few bold strokes, have 
graphically delineated it with a masterly pencil. 
At the upper end were seated the venerable grand- 
parents ; and, as I watched their gentle smile, and 
the mildly-beaming lustre of their glance, I thought 
I could read a volume of placid happiness — 
an eloquent, though silent expression of their 
gratitude to the Supreme Giver for thus per- 
mitting them once more to enjoy the Day of 
Days in the midst of their friends, their chil- 
dren, and their children's children. Towards 
the centre of the table sat our host, and nearly 
opposite him presided his accomplished lady — der 
Wandernde Vogel being honoured with the seat at 
her right hand. There were many charming, bright 
blue-eyed Danish lasses, and some of the loveliest 
children I ever beheld. Indeed, our hostess's eldest 
child, a little girl three years of age, was the most 
beautiful and engaging creature conceivable. Her 
liveliness presented a strong contrast to the bear- 
ing which I have elsewhere ascribed to the gene- 
rality of Danish childron. I forthwith christened 
her Fairy Queen, and never do I visit her parents' 
house without absolutely enjoying a kiss from her 
rosy lips. God bless her ! She is the petted fa- 
vourite of not only myself, but also of another 
mateless Wandernde Vogel — even one Hons 
Christian Andersen, who will play with her for 
hours, and can enter into the very spirit of her in- 
fantile delights. 'Tis his nature, and a divine na- 
ture too ! " Blessed it he whose band prepareth 

a pleasure for a child !" and he whose nature as- 
similates itself to that of little children, is verily 
nearest Heaven. 

There was nothing deserving especial notice in 
the dinner itself, which mightily resembled an 
English one, down to the huge boiled plum-pudding, 
which, " let me whisper i' your lug,' was capitally 
concocted by an elderly English ludy. A touching 
national trait came under my observation at tbe 
conclusion of the dinner. The two little children of 
the host ran to him and said, " Thank you for my 
dinner.'" This is the constant custom of Danish 
children every day. A few appropriate toasts were 
given by our host, and each guest — ladies as well 
as gentlemen — bowed to each individual present is 
succession, ere they drained their glasses. On the 
company rising simultaneously from table, another 
national custom was strictly followed. The guests 
of both sexes shook hands all round, saying at the 
same time, " Vel bckomme Dim ;" which literally 
means, " Good may it do you !" But those guests 
who were previously unacquainted merely bowed to 
each other. This is a custom observed at all din- 
ner parties throughout the year. 
■ VVe adjourned en maueto the drawing-room, and 
certain whispers and movements intimated to me 
that something was in preparation likely to give 
mo a pleasant surprise. Nor was I long kept in 
suspense, for the word came to " follow our leader," 
and away the entire fleet of us gaily scudded, pell- 
mell, towards another room ; and, on sailing in, the 
secret was revealed at a single glance. 

The Danish Christmas Tree! Yes, there it 
towered in all its glory — with its countless spark- 
ling lights, and its dangling tickets. Beautiful, ex- 
ceedingly, wasthe novel effect. Abun of admiration 
burst from all lips, and bright eyes grew brighter, 
and smiling cheeks grew more radiant, and prattlers 
prattled faster, and little feet danced around with 
irrepressible joyous excitement 

Let me soberly describe the Christmas Tree. It 
was a beautiful living spocimen of a species of ever- 
green pine, growing in a tub placed in tbe centre 
of the room. It was about nine or ten feet in height, 
and its horizontal branches symmetrically stretobed 
around, shooting out widely at the base, and gra- 
dually lessening until the apex was formed by the 
straight single stem. In the branches were fas- 
tened scores of various coloured wax lights, placed 
in wine-holders, and from root to top were suspended 
pasteboard tickets, each inscribed with a certain 
number. Interspersed were gilded apples, bunchea 
of grapes and raisins, nuts, figs, &c, to be plucked 
by the company at pleasure. 

The host armed himself with a pair of scissors, 
and calling upon us to aid him in finding the suc- 
cessively numbered tickets, as the latter were pur- 
posely mingled in pleasing confusion, he commenced 
operations by clipping off number one. This he 
delivered to the guest whose name it bore, and he, 
in turn, presented it to the hostess, who was the 
presiding Good Genius at a large and long table, 
completely covered with articles of all sites, mysn 
teriously muffled in paper, so that it was impossible 
even to guess what their contents might be. These 
were the prief, each having a number answaraWe 

winter pictures from the north of eurqj? e. 

to torn* particular ticket, to indicate to whose share 
the corresponding prize wm to full. Having fount) 
tbo article bearing the duplicate number, the office 
of the Good Genius vu smilingly to deliver the 
parcel to hiti) or her, as the cose might bo. The 
fortunate party would then forthwith eagerly toar 
off the wrappers, and exultiugly exhibit the prize to 
the company. These prizes consisted of ovory con- 
ceivable variety of artiolos, and, by what I esteemed 
marked good taste, were, in most eases, not merely 
ornamental, but useful : not a few of them were 
elegant and expensive light articles of dress. 
Neither host nor hostess knew what all the prizes 
were, nor what would fall to their own personal 
share ; for those which they designed for each other 
were privately deposited among the collection, and 
ticketed at the last moment. 

Number after number was found and called, and 
prize after prize delivered ; and such a gleeful, busy, 
rattling, chattering, happy set as we all were, never 
was seen since the world began to make merry, I 
will take my affidavit. There was at least one 
prize for every body — from grandsire to the wee 
todlin' bairnie of only eighteen months of age, 
whieh, with the usual preeooiousness of Copenhagen 
infants, could run about and talk as well as many 
English ones thrice as old. Oh, reader dear, it 
would have gladdened the very soul of the sourest 
misanthrope to have seen us ! The silver-haired 
grandparents, the black-bearded fellows like my- 
self, the gold-laced officer, the oharming, bonnie, 
son lie lassie — all were children ! Oh, the glorious 
fun, the frolic, the exuberant bursts of laughter — 
now echoing in the deep bass of manly voices, and 
anon in the silvery ringing melody of the " sister 
seraph-band !" Sometimes a prize would turn up 
designedly of a description to create a peal of cor- 
dial merriment at the expense of its owner — in 
which he himself could not bat irresistibly join. 

And, pray, what prises did der Wandernde Vogel 
get f No less than three. My first was particu- 
larly acceptable — a beautiful portrait of Hans 
Christian Andersen, the gift of my host, who well 
knew I should treasure it. I will get Andersen to 
write his autograph beneath it, ere I send it to 
England. My second prise was— a Danish wife : 
Hear that, ye listening Daughters of England ! and 
eh, ye Sens of England 1 question not concerning 
her, but believe me I only wish each of pou may 
live to win that prize of prizes — a Danish wife ! 
Unto whom my gratitude is due for this priceless 
gift, I deplore I am even yet profoundly ignorant. 
My third prize was a beautiful peuholdei (in use 
at this moment), the gift of the Good Genius. Be 
assured der Wandernde Vogel did not neglect to 
then and there warmly salute her, and to assure 
her that he would never use it to write anght inimi- 
cal to tbo cause of virtue. 

The last prise was that magical number, ninety- 
nine ; and it appropriately fell to the share of the 
Good Genius herself — a fitting reward for her 
graceful labours. She had not the remotest idea 
what it was, and closely did we circle round bar as 
•be detached fold after fold of paper. At length a 
square ease appeared* and on Us lid being raised, 
the priM va* iwveakd is the shape of a beautiful 

new gold watch — a present from her husband, 
iicr delight ouly equalled her surprise at this 
timed gift, and clinging was the fond kiss with 
which she tearfully acknowledged it, The emirs, 
distribution of prizes occupied nearly two hours. 

The Christmas Tree is a genuine old Banish 
affair, looked forward to by the young with incon- 
ceivable expectation. The gifts it distributes vary 
in value, of course, with the rank and wealth of the 
host, and sometimos they are of so costly a na- 
ture that the aggregate value of the prizes amounts 
to a very large sum, I ought to observe that, oq 
the occasion in question, an improvement on the 
ordinary custom of distributing the prizes was 
effected, but in all other respects the orthodox usage, 
was rigidly observed. Indeed, my kind friend 
afterwards told me that he had got up his Christ- 
mas Tree with extraordinary precision, expressly to 
give me an opportunity of beholding a perfect sped, 
men. His end and aim were fully answered, and 
I shall look back to the occasion as one of the most 
delightful of my reminiscences. 

And now, reader o' mine — thou who feolest that 
" religion never was designed to make our pleasures 
less" — surely thou wilt heartily shout with me, 
Hurrah for the brave old Danish Christmas, 
Tree ! Long may it flourish to gladden the true 
and gentle-hearted, both old and young t Long 
may it rear itself, the emblematic dispenser of 
bounty and benevolenoe — the fitting medium of 
affectionate offerings — the kindly cementer of 
friendship and love ! 

The remainder of the evening was spent by the 
younger portion of the company in playing curious, 
Danish games, of which there are an immense va- 
riety. One was, I believe, a very antique kind of 
' ' mystery," founded on the Scripture parable of the, 
Wise and Foolish Virgins — candles being borne by 
the young ladies to represent lamps. As I gazed 
at the innocent and animated groups around roe, I 
muttered aloud the exquisite expression of Gold* 
smith's Vicar : — " As some men by nature admire 
the gaudy colours of a tulip or a butterfly's wing, 
so X by nature am an admirer of happy faces.'* 
And then the laugh of the little ones ! Oh, what 
music can vie with the laugh of a obild " fresh 
from the hand of God V Surely none on earth ; 
and we know that children's voices blend with those 
of seraphs and of morning stars, as they chaunt the 
hymn of Love and Light, before the throne of the 

The whole of tho guests departed together, and 
as we grouped at the last moment, all united to sing 
a Danish Christmas Song ; and as the sweet voices 
of the virgin singers blended in the touching chorus 
of " Juid, Juul," it sounded to me like a strain of 
delicious melody — like an echo of a hymn caught 
from heaven in my childhood's hours, and now once 
more floating back on my soul, to remind me of the 
holy time when I was pure and undefiled in the; 
sight of my Creator. So ended my Christmas Day 
in Copenhagen ; and if thou, 0 reader, anywhere 
passed a happier, I oan only say it must have been 
a foretaste of elysium itself 1 

The week succeeding Christmas is, as I bare 
already said, a universal holiday. It is trot) thf 



•hops are open, but no business worth mentioning 
is transacted, and the streets swarm with well 
dressed people. I was particularly invited to a 
brilliant party on New Year's Day, but circum- 
stances beyond my control compelled me most 
reluctantly to fail in my promise to attend. The 
assembly only separated at three o'clock on the 
ensuing morning, bat my disappointment was ma- 
terially mitigated by a knowledge that, as there 
were no peculiar national customs worthy of note 
in the observance of this day, my presenco would 
not have enabled me to have taken any sketches 
for my English friends. But where and how did 
I spend the New Tear's Eve ? To tell you the ex- 
act truth, reader, I was labouring in your own ser- 
vice — painting these " Pictures," to enable yon 
to read them in the next number of our old friend 
Tail. But although I ever feel it a proud privi- 
lege to hold communion with yon, yet on this occa- 
sion my hand dragged heavily over the paper, and 
I daubed rather than painted. Marvel not : for 
solemn extraneous thoughts were thronging my 
brain. As the midnight hour drew nigh, I ceased 
my task altogether; and then commenced the heavy 
and continuous explosions of guns and cannons in 
the court-yard which my windows overlook. This 
is a custom (now only partially observed in Copen- 
hagen) of firing the Old Year Out, and the New 
Year In. At length, amid a profound silenco, 
twelve boomed. Then my feelings flowed in a 
rapid current, and thus did my thoughts shape 
themselves : — 

Aye, another year has ended, and I look back- 
ward and ask myself — What have I done worthy 
of remembrance during the past tbree-hundred-and- 
sixty-five days ? What passion have I mastered ? — 
what evil habit have I cast off ? — what benefit have 
I conferred on my brother man ? I am a year 
nearer the grave, but have I drawn one hair's 
breadth nearer my God ? I have added daily, 
hourly, to my store of knowledge and experience, 
but have I become really wiser than I was at the 
past year's commencement ? 

What a year hath that past one been to me ! 
What joys and what sorrows, what triumphs and 
what humiliations, what luxuries and what priva- 
tions, what warm friends and what bitter foes have 
I encountered during- it ! What thrilling and mar- 
vellously contrasted scenes have I gone through in 
those twelvo fleeting months ! No living being but 
myself knoweth, or ever shall know, all of them ; 
and, truly, the events of my previous span of twenty - 
four years pnt together, sink into insignificance com- 
pared with those crowded in that, my twenty-fifth ! 

And what will tha New Year, now a few mo- 
ments old, bring forth ? And where shall I be the 
next New Year's Day t I know what tbe past has 
been — I know what the present is — bnt not one 
second of the future is revealed to me. Infinite is 
tbe^wisdom, and infinite is the mercy, which or- 
'jams this impenetrable mystery of the future. Life 
would be unbearable were we conscious of the events 
which time has in store for us. And yet we are 
ever foolishly striving to peer through the divinely 
compassionate veil which bounds our purblind 

Thus I reflected, thus I reasoned; and in my soul 
I cried cloud — Up, heart! question not the future— 
enjoy the present— dwell only on the pleasant me- 
mories of the past ! There is only One who knoweth 
what the New Year will prove to thee; but thinkest 
thou that He who feedeth the young ravens when 
they call upon Him, and without whose divine will 
not a sparrow falleth to the ground — fearest 
thou that He will be unmindful of even the poor 
Wandernde Vogtl, who ever hath perfect faith in 
His protecting arm ? 

And then my proud man's heart melted within 
mei and my eyes were wet, and my soul overflowed. 
I lowly bowed my head — preferred an nnuttered, 
brief, and simple prayer — and sank into repose as 
trustingly and fearlessly as an infant on the bosom 
of its mother. 



I will anticipate what your fine writers call 
"the womb of Time" — though, as Washingtonlrving 
says, " Some folks would fain persuade us that Time 
is only an old gentleman. " Thus it is : — Period — 
this day twelvemonth. Scene— a London drawing- 
room. Dramatis Persona- — a matronly lady, her 
three unmarried daughters, and myself. Der Wan- 
dernde Vogel has just arrived in England, and made 
a morning call on his friends in question; where- 
upon the following dialogue ensues : — 

Mamma. But as to those horrid, narrow, slip- 
pery streets in Copenhagen, where the people on 
foot are all mixed up with the carriages, I shudder 
to think of the number of deariittle children who 
must be annually run over by them — by the car- 
riages I mean ! 

Wandebnde Vogkl.' Sheer wasted sympathy, 
madam. Never heard of dear little Copenhagen 
children being run over. Drivers wouldn't do such 
a thing for the world. Yet really there are no lit- 
tle children in Copenhagen. 

Omnes. No little children ! Oh 1 

Wandernde Yogei* (very coolly.) Remarkable 
fact. They are all miniature men and women. 
One look at them, as they soberlytrudge along the 
streets, would satisfy you of that. Bless my heart ! 
I have sometimes thought, as I gazed at their little 
faces, and theirqueerold- world attire, thattheymust 
be a separate raceof Scandinavians,quite full grown, 
and only very diminutive. These little old men, my 
dear madam, may be daily seen trudging to school, 
with a thing very mnch resembling a soldier's knap- 
sack, made of seal skin with the hair on the outside, 
fastened neatly over their shoulders with a double 
strap. That is their Toumister — their satchel ; 
but they don't *' creep like snails unwillingly to 
school," but go steadily towards it, neither hurry- 
ing nor loitering, but just with the aspect of plod- 
ding men of business attending an appointment as 
a matter of course. And yet, when they are a little 
older, I am told they are " wild devils *' enough. 
And then the "women bairnies !"only mark their 
demnre aspects, and I am sure yon would never 




hesitate to entrust any one of them to go and do 
your marketings ! As to the infants, from the very 
moment they can toddle about, they know how to 
bohave "distinctly," as Dandie Dinmont wonld 

Prettiest Young Lady. What insipid little 
creatures they must be ! /love children who are 
children — full of life and glee, fun and frolic 

Wandernde Vooel, (emphatically.) So do I. 
Bnt possibly mothers may view the matter in a dif- 
ferent light. Think of what a world of trouble and 
anxiety must be spared the Copenhagen matrons, 
by the precocious gravity of their interesting off- 
spring 1 No fear of their playing truant, or being 
lost in the streets, or rolling in gutters, or being 
brought home by somo charitable individual, who 
has either fished them out of the canal, or dragged 
them from nnder a cart-wheel ! What a comfort 
these sober-going, miniature men and women must 
be to their favoured parents ! Ah, my dear young 
lady ! perchance a few years hence, you will have 
reason to wish yours were like Copenhagen im- 

( Prettiest young lady turns rosy-hutd, and pout- 
ingly remarks that she finds der Wandernde Vogel 
as impudent a fellow as ever, and wonders what 
country wUl eventually have the honour of teaching 
Asm manners. Whereupon eldest young lady mo- 
destly suggests " Timbuetoo.") 

Mahma But the dresses of the ladies ! What 
do they wear ? 

Wandernde Vooel. Gowns, my dear madam, 
and quite an extraordinary allowance of petticoats. 

Mamma. For shame, sir! All I meant was, 
what is there peculiar in the fashion of their attire? 

Wandernde Vooel. Nothing whatever, madam, 
which wonld distinguish them from English ladies. 
The? all dress with the utmost propriety and neat- 
ness, and I never noticed any slovenly or ill-dressed 
lady in Copenhagen. The countrywomen, indeed, 
are radiant in all the colours of the rainbow. The 
only thing that struck me as being remarkable was 
that elegant ladies promenade in many instances in 
white satin bonnets and white lace veils, in the 
depth of winter. Bat then, even this harmonizes 
with the snow around ! 

Eldest Youno Ladt. I recontly read in a book 
this passage about the Danish ladies : — " Their 
complexion i« dazzlingly white ; but upon the 
whole, their features are destitute of animation, and 
soon after twenty-five they begin to lose their 
charms." Now, is this correct, sir ? 

Wandernde Vogel. Fudge ! So far from their 
complexion being dazzlingly white," I deliberate- 
ly declare that in no country which I ever was in 
have I seen women, of all ranks, with complexions 
of a more agreeable cast. It is true their hue is 
not olive, like that of the Spanish dames ; nor bru- 
nette, like those of the south of France ; nor exactly 
of that beautifully blended red and white which 
peculiarly distinguishes our English ladies ; nor of 
such a deep crimson as the cheeks of a Notting- 
hamshire milk maid ; but a clearer skin ami » 
pleasanter roseate tint than most of tliom havp, 1 
wonld not wish to gaze upon. S -me, indeed, have 
almost too much colour ; but I don't know whether 

I ever saw one whose complexion was " dazzlingly 
white," and at any rate such lady-birds form the 
exception, and not the rule. Again, as to losing 
their charms at an age when those of English ladies 
hare actually not fully ripened — [Der Wandernde 
Vogel here bows to eldest young lady — never 
mind her exact age — and she evidently lays the 
unction to her soul] — that also is erroneous. I 
admit that my experience is not ample enough to 
enable me to give a very positive denial on the sub- 
ject, bnt I believe there is little foundation for the 
sweeping assertion. At any rate, I had the pleasure 
of being personally acquainted with Danish ladies 
who had undoubtedly passed the Rubicon in question, 
and I very much doubt whether their graces were 
even arrived at maturity. Bah ! to talk in that 
way of their early fading charms is as great a libel 
as that wicked old calumny which assigns high cheek 
bones and a lathy figure to Scotch ladies ! And as 
to the young Copenhagen charmers — those say, 
about " sweet seventeen " or eighteen — they are as 
fascinating little baggages as ever 

Mamma. As ever smiled on der Wandernde Vo- 
gel, yon were about to say ? 

Wandernde Vooel. Precisely, my dear madam; 
I thank yon for the word. 

Prettiest Yooxo Ladt, (impatiently tapping 
the carpet with her foot, and pouting more than ever.) 
Ah ! you havo been petted and smiled upon till you 
won't see any faults in your Danish beauties ! 

Wakderkde Vooel, (tartly.) On principle I 
never seek for shades so long as I have sunbeams 
to bask in. But I must admit that the Danish ladies 
are guilty of one serious sin of omission. 

Owes, (uith intense interest.) Oh! What is 
that ? 

Wakderkde Vooel. On second thoughts, I had 
better not tell, lest my next reception among them 
should be 

Omnes, (coaxingly, and with tenfold eagerness.) 
Oh, do tell us ! 

Wandersde Vogel. It is rather a delicate 
matter, but to oblige you, and as it is in strict 
confidence, why — if it must out — they dok't wear 


Omxes, (with ineffable surprise, disgust, and 
indignation.) That is a naughty, shameful, wicked, 
dreadful, aggravating, insinuation! Too bad for 
anything, really! 

( It is some time ere they recover their equanimity, 
and then the torture of cross- questioning — in which 
instinct itself makes all ladies so very ingenious — «# 

Mamma. Then you actually mean to say that 
the Danish ladies are unrivalled? 

Wakderkde Vogel. Heaven forbid! I have 
seen exquisitely beautiful women in every country. 
Even iu France, which I place rather low in the 
scale, I knew one very lovely lady ; nay, to mo she 
was a ministering angel. Tor she smoothed my pil- 
low, and wiped my brow, and tended my couch, as 
I luy w resiling with tho grim Cholera Fiend. 
U hen my heurt ceases to beat, I shall forget her. 
Omne3, (with strongly-aroused curiosity.) 

Oh, who was she ? 
Wamderhde Yocurii9 iti S d 



and, if troth mart be told, she was no other 

Omnia. Who ? Who ? 

Wandernde Vogel. An Englishwoman!* But 
I am quite impartial in my admiration of the 
ladies of all nations. As dear Burns says — 
" Clear your decks ! here's »' the sex I 
I lore the jades for a' that!" 

Prettiest Touko Lady. You are always quot- 
ing that wioked Burns ! You don't know what re- 
marks people make about it. They say — 

Second Young Lady, (who is of a" decidedly 
serious" temperament, and speaks in a sepulchral 
voice.) Would you hare the goodness to tell us all 
about tho Danish Lutheran sermons and burial 

Prettiest Young Ladt. And all about the 
balls and drawing-rooms ? 

Mamma. And all about the betrothals and mar- 
riage ceremonies ? 

Eldest Yousg Lady. And all abont the christen- 
ings and — 

( Der Wandemdc Vogel wildly stares round for 
the means of exit, and in a moment his place is 
vacant. The three daughters of England, con- 
structed on Mrs. Ellis's latest model, utter some 
very pungent remarks on his characteristic depar- 

Mamma, (with becoming dignity.) My dears, 
yob must make some allowanco for the behaviour 
of that exceedingly eccentric young man, when you 
recollect that he has so long wandered among those 
uncivilized Northern nations — which, in spite of 
what he says, are, I am morally sure, yet in a 
shockingly barbarous condition, both physical and 



Tho booksellers' shops were, of course, a sub- 
ject of particular interest to me. They make very 
little external show, generally having only one or 
two small windows, a considerable height from the 
pavement, with a few books and prints displayed 
against the lower panes. Glazed show-cases, also, 
containing new works, &c, are attached under- 
neath tho windows, and along the sides of the 
entrance passages. In many instances, the shop 
itself is only accessible by a flight of steps from a 
aide entrance — strongly contrasting in this, as in 
ether respects, with similar concerns in England. 
Some of the shops are well stocked with works in 
various languages (<J3peeially German and French), 
and the publishers are intelligent men, au courant 
en literary subjects. They sell English books at 
the London prices ; but the time occupied in pro- 
earing them to order is never less than one month, 
and sometimes above three. One striking feature 
in English large towns, shops devoted to the sale 
of weekly literary sheets and periodicals is altoge- 
ther unknown in Copenhagen. There are no works 
whatever published in numbers in Denmark, and 

* I may be permitted to add, that every opinion and incidental 
remark put into the month of tier Wandernde Fagel, in this little 
•olloaay, is strictly is adhere ace with truth.— W. 11. 

no magazines, with tho exception ef one, a literary 

and critical monthly, entitled " iVW og Spd," 
(North and South). As to English cheap journals 
they are utterly unknown ; but the English and 
French monthlies and quarterlies have many 
subscribers. The number of newspapers of all 
descriptions issued in Denmark is from seventy 
to a hundred. In Copenhagen alone there are 
ten daily and four weekly newspapers, and nearly 
every little village — under whioh designation 
Englishmen would, in fact, class almost all places 
in the kingdom, excepting the oapital — has one 
or more papers of its own. The largest of the 
Copenhagen papers is somewhat larger than on* 
leaf only of the London " Times," and the small- 
est are dot quite double the size of an ordinary 
sheet of letter paper. The type is large and the 
lines leaded out, so that the mass of reading in 
one of these papers is actually much less than is 
contained in even half a page of some of the 
London weekly papers, which use small type. 
These miniature papers give a little local and 
foreign intelligence ; but the bulk of the matter 
consists of original leading political articles. One 
important feature hi them is their feuilleton, which 
consists of either fiction or poetry, original or 
translated. At this time, one of the biggest daily 
journals, called the " Fcedvelandet " (Fatherland), 
is publishing in its feuUleton a regularly continued 
translation of Dickens' talo of " David Copper- 
field," which occasionally occupies nearly half of 
tho current number. Tho Government organ is 
" Berlingske Tidendt' ' ( Berling's Gazette). Seme 
of these papers ore printed in Roman characters, 
bat the majority are In German type. Their 
price is from one penny to twopence each number. 
There is also a weekly publication called " Cow 
saren" (The Corsair), of the same description as 
" Fvnch " of London, and the " Charivari " of 
Paris. I am informed that it was originally very 
able, but is considered to have fallen off greatly of 
late. Some of its illustrations struck me as being 
good, but most of them are puerile, without either 
wit or satire discoverable in them. 

Denmark is really an intellectual kingdom. 
Education is so generally diffused by the State 
that it is a nation of readers, and, as a natural 
sequence, these readers have mental pabulum sup- 
plied them by a very strong array of native writers. 
The number of works issued from the Copenhagen 
press is very considerable, and some of them— 
espocially gift books and annuals — are got up in a 
style which would not disgrace the best Louden or 
Paris houses. The prices are moderate, and as an 
instance of the comparatively immense circulation 
works at times attain here, I may mention that a 
poem of length, entitled " Den Lille HornbUeser " 
(The Little Trumpeter), by H. P. Hoist— having for 
its subject the recent war with the Duchies— waa 
published just before my arrival, and five thousand 
copies were sold within the first fortnight. 

Many of the living Danish authors are men of 
very great talent — a few even are of brilliant genial. 
Foremost in the latter rank is the veteran Oehlen- 
schkeger, of whom a gentleman, who I know to be a 
first-rate authority, said to me, "Sir, his tragedies; 



are entitled to a place on the lame ihelf with those 
of Shakspeare and Schiller; and it is worth a fo- 
reigner's while to study the language, for the sole 
pnrpoMof being able to appreciate Oehlenschloager." 
"Really," I replied, "if that is the case, it is grie- 
vous to reflect that the accident of language should 
confine the works of such a man to so limited a 
circle of readers. It seems to me much like giving 
'to a party what was meant for mankind.' "* 

Nothing astonishes the Danes more than to be 
informed that their oountryman, Hans Christian 
Andersen, has attained such an unrivalled popu- 
larity in England. I have conversed with many 
on the subject, both at Copenhagen and elsewhere, 
and all agree that Andersen, in their estimation, 
holds only a secondary place compared with some 
other Danish authors. Presuming this opinion to be 
correct, one certainly would derive a very high 
opinion of the genius of the authors alluded to. An- 
dersen's countrymen do not deny that he is a highly 
gifted man; nor are they insensible to his peculiar 
merit. All they contend for is, that his genius is 
essentially of a less lofty order than that of such 
beings as Oehlenschloeger. They admit that he is 
a true diamond, but not a surpassingly brilliant one. 
At present, I much regret that I have only read a 
little of Andersen's writings; but that little is quite 
sufficient to impress me with a notion that he is the 
Goldsmith of Denmark. I loved the man ere I had 
read a dozen of his pages: he is so genial, so purely 
child-like in his temperament, and so filled with 
unfeigned heartfelt affection for his brothor man. 
I should, for my own part, bitterly abhor any author 
who merely simulated sensibility — I should loath 
his very name. Now I have private reason to 
know that Andersen is no hypocrite, but really only 
transfers his feelings to paper, and presents us with 
a sweet reflex of his own infantile yet finely-poetical 
and noble nature, f This it is that gives that charm 
to his writings, which has been so universally felt. 
This it is which will impart unto them an enduring 
vitality, for human nature is the same in all ages, 
and what is acknowledged to be a true transcript of 
it now, will be relished as keenly a thousand years 
hence. There can, however, be no doubt that the 
circumstance of Andersen's being the first Danish 
imaginative author introduced to the British public, 
has aided materially in scouring him bis monopoly 
of their esteem; and so thoroughly has he pre-oceu- 
pied the field, that I know for a fact, that the Lon- 
don publishers decline to bring out works of any 
other Danish author, on that very account. 

It is also remarkable that Miss Bremer occupies the 
same position with regard to Sweden. She has won 
the first suffrages of the English people, who know 
not any other Swedish writer; but here publishers 
and critics alike smile with surprise, when I toll 
them this, and they unanimously declare, that both 

* Since writing the kbove, I have learned that Oehlenschloeger 
has told the entire copyright of all his works — which fill many 
Tolnmes — for the sum of only 6,000 rix-dollars Danish, or £673 
sterling. Why, there are English novelists who hare earned 
twice as mnch within one fortnight ! And yet, the works in 
question are the long-life-labours of a mighty intellect.— W.H. 

f I probably shall hereafter give some personal details concern- 
ing Haas Christian Anders**. W. H. 

in Sweden and Denmark, she is accounted only a 
second-rate Swedish writer. Really, after all is said 
and done, it is enough to make one mutter some- 
thing about a prophet and his own country — is it 


I folt naturally carious to learn what English 
writers of fiction are most read in Denmark, and I 
learned, from an undoubtedly reliable source, that 
the four favourites are Bulwer, Marryat, Dickens, 
and James. The sequence of their names, as here 
given, indicates their relative degrees of popularity. 
They are all much read; and nearly all the copies 
bought in the original language are of the cheap 
bnt very neat edition issued by Fauohnits, of 

The remuneration generally given to oven first- 
class Danish authors is very small — not one-fourth 
so much as English writers usually get for maga- 
zine papers. We need not marvel at this, when we 
consider the very limited public addressed. All 
Denmark Proper contains one million less inhabi- 
tants than London alone. But then, nearly every 
Danish author of repute has a pension from the 
State, which thus nobly recognises the olaimi of 
literature — paramount, as Hume says, above all 
other professions whatsoever. I blush for my own 
mighty country as I write this, for with all her count- 
less wealth, England, as a state, grudgingly assign! 
so niggard, so beggarly a mite, for the reward and en- 
couragement of men of genius, of literature, art, and 
science, that foreigners may well cry shame. When 
will this burning stain be wiped away ? When will 
British legislators learn that spirit" is superior to 
matter— that mammon will perish, but that the eli- 
minations of God-given genius never pass awayf 
The crown of Denmark also frequently aids in bring- 
ing out valuable works, which, from their abstruse 
nature, oannot, of themselves, command a remu- 
nerating sale, and, consequently, but for its as- 
sistance, would remain unpublished. His late Ma- 
jesty, Christian VIII., was, 1 believe, a munificent 
and discriminating patron of literature and the fine 
arts, A few months ago, the Bishop of Copen- 
hagen published a translation of Ossian. 

There are in Copenhagen two literary institu- 
tions, principally devoted to reading. One is the 
Athenaum, and consists of a suite of many very 
commodious and handsomely-fitted reading-rooms, 
a refreshment room, and also one devoted to con- 
versation and smoking. It possesses a valuable 
library of upwards of 20,000 volumes, principally in 
the German language — few shelves only being 
French and English standard works, including la- 
test editions of the " Enoyclopeedia Britannica. " It 
is plentifully supplied with Danish, German, and 
French journals and serials, bnt rather scantily with 
English ones. It only takes the Times, Morning 
Chronicle, Examiner, Athenaum, and Pvnek\ the 
Edinburgh Quarterly, Foreign Quarterly, and " Law 
Reviews;" and Tail's and the United Service ma- 
gazines. None other than regularly-elected mem- 
bers of the first personal respectability are ad- 
mitted to this excellent institution j but shortly after 
my arrival Mr. Philepsen, a Copenhagen publisher, 
very kindly made application on my behalf to the 
directors, who immediately accorded me free usage 



of all the privileges of a member — of which I have 
daily availed myself. While thus acknowledging 
the courtesy shown me, I wish I could positively 
assure my Danish friends that my own countrymen 
would not be less generous towards any of them, 
should they sojourn in Britain nnder similar circum- 
stances. The other establishment, which is called 
the " Aristalon" (News Room), is a much humbler 
and less exclusive place, and has only very recently 
been opened. It is tolerably well supplied with 
newspapers, and the public can at anytime go there, 
by payment of half a marc (about 2 Jd. English) per 
■visit, or by monthly or quarterly subscriptions. 

To conclude this chapter of literary gossip, I 
may just add, that, happening to say to a literary 
gentleman here, that the phrase, " James's solitary 
horseman," is a standard joke with the English 
critics, he replied — " Yes, and so is ' Andersen s 
solitary stork ' with us, for he introduces it into 
every book he has ever written." 


Daring the past year of 1819, it has been my 
lot to reside at four of the most remarkable capi- 
tals of Europe, and to successively experience what 
spring is in London ; what summer is in Paris ; 
what anttunn is in Edinburgh, and what winter is 
in Copenhagen. Vividly indeed can I dwell on the 
marvellous contrast of the night-aspect of each, but 
one of the most interesting peculiarities I have 
noticed in any of them is that presented by the 
watchmen of tire last-named. When I first looked 
on these guardians of the night, I involuntarily 
thought of Shakspeare's Dogberry and Verges. 
The sturdy watohers are muffled in uniform great- 
coats, and also wear fur caps. In their hand they 
carry a staff of office, on which they screw, when 
occasion requires, that rather fearful weapon, the 
Northern Star. They also sometimes may be seen 
with a lanthorn at their belt ; the candle contained 
in said lanthorn they place at the top of their staff 
to relight any street lamps which require trimming. 
In case of fire, the watchmen give signals from the 
church towers, by striking a number of strokes, 
varying with the quarter of the city in which the 
re occurs, and they also put out from the tower 
flags and lights pointed in the direction where the 
destructive element is raging. From eight o'clock 
in the evening, until four o'clock in the morning, 
all the year round, they channt a fresh verse at 
the expiration of each hour as they go their rounds. 
The cadence is generally deep and guttural, but 
with a peculiar emphasis and tone ; and from a dis- 
stance, it floats on the still night-air with a pleas- 
ing and impressive effect, especially to the ear of 
a stranger. The verses in question are of old 
antiquity, and were written, I am told, by one of 
the Danish bishops. They are printed on a large 
sheet of paper, with an emblematical border rudely 
engraved in the old style, and in the centre is a 
large engraving exactly representing one of the 
ancient watchmen, in the now obsolete custom, with 
his staff and Northern Star in hand, a lanthorn at 
his belt, and his dog at his feet. A copy of the 
broadside has been procured me, and my friend, 

Mr. ' Charles Beckwith, (Andersen's translator), 
has expressly made for me a verbatim translation 
of the verses, and his able version I will now giro 
at length. I am induced to do this, because, not 
merely are the chaunts most interesting in them- 
selves, as a fine old relic of Scandinavian customs, 
but there seems to me a powerful poetical spirit per- 
vading them. At the top of the sheet are the 
lines :— 

ontanriL. rBjufsuiloir. 

8ug og «rrt, Watch and prey, 

8ty< tften gaser ; For time goes ; 

Santa og ftrar, Think, and directly, 

Su b«B ft nut. You know not when. 

In large letters over the engraving of the watch- 
man are the words : — 

lonrt bam ©ub I bar feme, bam 
ftkrt lob, 9 rite, og 8m : 

That is — 

Praised be God ! our Lord, to whom 
Be love, praise, and honour. 
I will now give the literal version, printed ex- 
actly in the same arrangement of lines, letters, and 
punctuation, as the original : 



When darkness blinds the Earth, 

And the day declines, 
That time then us reminds 

Of death's dark grave ; 
Shine on us, Jesus sweet, 

At every step 

To the grave place, * 
And grant a blissful death. 

nine o'clock. 
Now the day strides down, 

And the night rolls forth. 
Forgive, for Jesus' wounds, 

Our sins, O mildest God ! 
Preserve the Royal house, 

And all men 

In this land 
From the violence of foes. 

ten o'clock. 
If you the time will know, 

Husband, + girl, and boy ; 
Then it's about the time 

That one prepares for bed. 
Commend yourselves to God, 

Be prudent and cautious, 

Take care of lights and fire, 
Our clock it has struck ten. 

eleven o'clock. 
God, our Father, us preserve, 

The great with the small, 
His holy angel-host, 

A fenoe around us place ! 
He himself the town will watch ; 

Our house and home 

God has in care 
Our entire life and soul. 

twelve o'clock. 
'Twas at the midnight hour 

Our Saviour he was born, 
The wido world to console, 

Which else would ruined bo. 
Our dock it has struck twelve. 

With tongue and mouth. 

From the heart's depths 
Commend yourselves to God's care. 

I .Burial 0igi , |zedb Jr»^p* 



en o'clock. 
Help us, 0 Jesus dear I 

Our cross here in this world 
Patiently to brar ; 

There is no Saviour more. • 
Our clock it has struck one, 

Extend to us thy hand 

O consoling man ; t 
Then too burthen becomes light. 

two o'clock. 
Thou mild Jesu child, 

To whom we were so dear, 
Wast born in darkness wild. 

To Thee be honour, love, and praise. 
Thou worthy Holy Ghost 

Enlighten us 

That we may thee behold. 


Now the black Night strides on, 

And the Day approaches ; 
God let those stay away 

Who us will distress ! 

Our olook it has struck three, 

O pious Father 

Come to our help, 
Grant us Thy grace. 


Thon eternal God nave honour 

In thy Heavenly choir. 
Who watchman wilt be 

For us who dwell on earth. 
Now it rings off watch, 

For a good night 

Siiy thanks to God ; 
Take good care of Time. 

w» o'clock. 
0 <Te:u ! morning star ! 

Our King unto thy care 
We so willinsly oommend, 

Be thou his Sun and Shield ! 
Our clock it has struck fife. 

Curoo mild Sun, 

From mercy's pale, 
Light up our bouse and home.} 

* There is no other Saviour. + O consoler I 

> Many of the Danish words of this song are obsolete, but Mr. Beckwith has with great core girtn the precise equivalents. I am 
not aware that any translation of it has ever appeared before.— W. H. 



No. V. 
by Frances bsovk, 

The idea of efficacious rebukes being administered 
from the invisible world, to those transgressors whom 
laws as they are framed on this side of the grave 
have either passed by or encouraged, though not re- 
stricted to the peasant faith of Ulster, was in simpler 
times so prevalent among its people, that the report 
of any action better than could have been anticipated 
from the doer's general conduct is still followed by the 
proverbial question, " What ghost appeared to him ?" 

Of course, rustic tales and legends on the subject 
are not wanting ; and one of the latest, from its bearing 
on certain peculiarities in the social state of the pro- 
vince and still pressing evils of Ireland, is worth the 
reader's perusal. 

Voyagers to Belfast now mark from the deck of 
many a steamer the massive fortifications and sombre 
quiet of Carrickfergus, where it stands on the southern 
shore of that long lake, or bay, which takes its de- 
signation from the capital of Ulster. Besides pos- 
sessing the local importance of a military garrison, 
a parliamentary borough, and the .assize town of the 
county Antrim, Carrickfergus, though scarcely num- 
bering four thousand inhabitants, and never larger in 
its most distinguished day, may be said to contain 
in its own an epitome of Irish history, at least since 
English dominion was established in the isle. 

Its name, which signifies the rock of Fergus, from 
a Celtic king, who, long ago, perished there, occurs 
among the first conquests of the Norman de Courcey, 
to whom Henry the Second gave an anticipatory grant 
of all the lands he could conquer in Ulster, and whose 
castle, with tower and donjon-keep, in true Norman 
fashion, still accommodates a British garrison, and stood 
for many a century the bulwark of the English pale. 

Round it rose the city (as Sir Henry Sidney called 
it, when he built its massive walls in the sixteenth 
century), a group of narrow streets, or rather lanes, 
between high houses built of brick set in strong oaken 
frames by English settlers before the Elizabethan 
age, when the present site of Belfast was a wild strath 
on the Laggan, commanded by a decaying stronghold 
of the O'Neills. 

As conquest progressed, the lords-deputy of Ulster 
had their mansion at Carrickfergus ; a suburb was 
assigned for the residence of the "mere Irish," none 
of whom were admitted- within the walls ; and a colony 
of Scottish fishermen, removed with their Presbyterian 
faith from the shores of Galloway and Episcopal per- 
secution, and built themselves a village next the sea, 
hence called the Scottish Quarter. Thus representing 
the three constituent nations, Carrickfergus was in 
turn besieged and captured by every conqueror, from 
the great Rebellion of 1641 till Thurot's invasion in 
1760 — Monroe, Monk, and Schomberg held it in suc- 
cession — there King William first trod the Irish soil; 
and Paul Jones last alarmed its garrison by sailing up 
the bay and capturing a British vessel, in the midst of 
the American war. At the period of our story the 
latter event was still fresh in the memory of its inha- 
bitants ; but Sidney's city retained few of its anti- 
quated dwellings, the greater part having gradually 
given place to modern houses of various construction, 
from the mere cabin to the substantial slate roof. 
The Scotch and Irish quarters had largely increased, 
but their peculiar distinction was now limited to the 
name. The mansion of the lordly Chichesters had 
long disappeared, and the growing importance and 
commerce of Belfast left the town scarce a vestige of 



trade ; but besides its walls and castle, Carrickfergus 
was, as it is still, noted for two indispensable edifices, 
a church and a gaol — the former being the chapel, and 
only remnant, of a once extensive Irish monastery, 
whose foundation traditionally dates from the sixth cen- 
tury ; and the latter believed to be the oldest of its 
kind north of Dublin. 

Carrickfergus had another notable point in those 
days, the Orangemen of sundry adjoining counties 
regarded it as the bead-quarters of their order ; and 
William Jackson, Esq., its lately elected mayor, was 
also master of the town lodge, and known to be one 
of the most zealous partisans in Antrim. 

Mr. Jackson was wont to say that he "was descended, 
on the maternal side, from that bulwark of Protes- 
tantism the renowned General Ginckle; that his ances- 
tors had suffered for their loyalty and religion in 1641; 
and that Ids grandfather had landed with the Prince of 
Orange, who distinguished him with special favour, 
on which account the for-ever-famous name of William 
had been transmitted to his family." These outlines 
of genealogy were generally accorded to his company 
when " the glorious, pious, and immortal memory" had 
been drunk with all the honours, which were not 
those of the Temperance Society's kind ; but old 
neighbours, especially those in the Irish quarter, unani- 
mously averred that he was descended on the maternal 
aide from Willie Thrum, a Lisbum weaver; that his 
ancestors had been Catholics of the O'Heirly tribe ; 
and that his grandfather came from Connanglit with 
a spendthrift colonel of the Antrim family, in whoso 
service he was supposed to have made his fortune 
and turned Protestant, as, after the Colonel's decease, 
he purchased sundry old houses, and set up for a gen- 
tleman in Carrickfergus. 

The discrepancy of those accounts it is fortunately 
not our province to reconcile ; suffice it to say, then, 
that Mr. Jackson was a handsome, hold, empty-looking 
nan, who would have done anything for what he ima- 
gined greatness, and whose chief characteristics were 
vanity and assurance. He had been the only son in 
ft family of six. The property, consisting of the already- 
mentioned houses, was entailed, and, as too frequently 
happens in Ireland, no money had been saved for 
the five girls. They, whether owing to that cir- 
cumstance, their hope of high matches, or their 
very red hair, for all these causes were assigned by 
considerate gossips, occupied a part of their bro- 
ther's honse, and continued to be known as the Misses 

There was also a Mrs. Jackson in that house, though 
their mother had been long dead. William had, some 
years before, given unmingled satisfaction to the eldest 
and proudest of his sisters, by his marriage with a 
Lisbum lady, not of the family from which his descent 
was popularly traced, but one of the highest ranks in 
that linen mannfacturing and very genteel little town, 
(for Ulster has its uncommon localities,) who believed 
themselves related iu some way to the Marquis of 
Downshire, and "The most Noble," was said to have 
acknowledged as much on an election canvass. 

Miss Carson— snch was the lady's name before she 
went to church and changed it— had one sister married 
in the excise, another in the army, and her brother 
had already been elected mayor of Lisburn. She 
transferred aH the remaining rank of the house to the 

old and lengthy, but still substantial, brick tenement, 
close by the castle wall, which Jackson averred had 
been built by bis persecuted ancestor in the reign of 
Bloody Mary, and which all Carrickfergus knew to 
have been bought by his grandfather ; but so perfectly 
did the lady understand the importance of her con- 
nexions, that the descendant of Ginckle, or Willie 
Thrum, was presumed to enjoy little qniet and less 
sway within it, while the five single ladies were 
obliged to have a street door opened for egress from 
that part of the mansion assigned as their dwelling, 
and a solid partition erected between them and their 
distinguished sister-in-law. 

Limited, indeed, was their domain; a couple of 
apartments on the ground-flat, with an equal number 
on the second, and attics, to which all the superannuated 
furniture in Mrs. Jackson's house was transferred. 
There was an allowance sufficiently moderate to sup- 
port that establishment, placed under the care of the 
eldest, Miss Grace ; but on it the five continued to 
dress and live, ay, and look comfortably, keeping their 
own servant, and entertaining to tea, at long intervals, 
some select acquaintances, and a discreet officer or two, 
when such were in the garrison. 

Meantime, their brother attended meetings, and 
made speeches when opportunity served, and that was 
not seldom. It was the breaking-uptime of the Irish 
Volunteers'. Titled patriots began to think they had 
gone too far in the declaration of popular rights, and 
their country's attendant fatality of discord had risen 
among their ranks. The grand dispute between 
Grattan and Flood, on the subject of Catholic Eman- 
cipation, now divided ' the Protestants of Ireland. 
Ulster, as might be expected, had a large share of the 
agitation; and the Orangemen, who, like other parties, 
had been temporarily lost in the volunteering fervour, 
once more became prominent. 

Between the Protestant eolonist and native Catho* 
lie of that province there ran a stream of bloody tra- 
dition. There was scarcely a family of the former who 
had not some tragic legend of ancestral suffering in 
what they too truly called, " The massacre of 1041, 
and the Papist times of James the Second;" while 
"Crummle an' the wars or Irelan'," inextricably 
blended in the minds of the latter, furnished them 
with tales of no less terrible import. 

The debasing operation of the penal code, whose 
remnants still pressed on the body, and, probably, that 
of their peculiar creed and clergy, never suspected of 
promoting popular education in any country, left 
among the Ulster Catholics, at the period of onr story, 
little property and less intelligence, compared with their 
Protestant neighbours, by whom they were conse- 
quently despised as well as distrusted. The proposi- 
tion to admit Catholics to parliament acted, therefore, 
like an alarm-bell on the prejudices and memories of 
the north. Orange Lodges revived in districts where 
their existence had become traditional ; halMorgottea 
anniversaries were restored to the honours of flag 
and drum ; Protestant meetings and petitions war* 
got up in every town, to the great exercise of pro- 
vincial eloquence; the clergy of the Established Church 
proclaimed from the pulpit that it was in danger; and 
thoughtful Presbyterians had debates among them- 
selves, "touching the lawfulness ef giving power to 

Digitized by GoOgle - 



The Mayor of Carriokfefgns had taken his oath of 
office, according to the burgh's old charter, in the 
Castle-yard, just when this ferment had reached its 
climax j and, as civic authority was rather a support to 
party zeal in those days, the Tory citiaens triumphed 
in his election; intelligence of which was received 
by all the surrounding lodges with the expected dis- 
play of joy and orange lilies. This height in party 
estimation had been gained by what might be justly 
termed extreme forwardness in their cause. It might 
have arisen from a desire to refute the tale of his 
Catholic origin, the lore of local distinction so common 
to shallow minds, or a laudable endeavour to escape 
beyond the bounds of his lady's empire ; but certain 
it was that Mr. Jackson made himself notable in every 
Orange movement, from carrying about an Anti-Ca- 
tholio petition, to heading a commemorative proces- 
sion to the stone whereon King William (and, of course, 
his grandfather), first set foot when landing to the 
rescue of loyal Protestants. 

It was not to he expected that the Catholics oonld 
remain unconcerned spectators of this demonstrative 
period. Many of them had been enrolled among the 
volunteers, and the better-informed had high hopes in 
the national spirit, then rapidly gaining ground among 
the more-enlightened Protestants of Ulster ; but the 
uninstruoted mass, to whom emancipation conveyed 
only a vague idea of triumph for their faith and 
people, saw in Orangemen the hereditary enemies 
of both, and confounded with them the whole Pro- 
testant population. Opposing societies hod risen 
among them from age to age, under the rustic desig- 
nations of Rockites, Hearts of Oak, Whitcboys, &c. ; 
but by far the most widely-spread and formidable was 
that of the notorious Ribbonmen, so called from a 
green ribbon, the badge of their order. Often de- 
nounced from the altar, though said to be secretly 
encouraged by the priests, Ribbonism has been for 
many a generation the bitterly-hated rival of the Orange 
faction, the terror of peaceful Protestants, and the con- 
tinual apprehension of the vice-regal government. 

Owing to the social and political inferiority of the 
Catholic body, its motions hare been always more 
mysteriously concealed, and its operations more ob- 
viously mischievous than even those of the Orange 
faction, as many a tale of barbarous retaliation and 
party hate but too strongly attests in the criminal 
records of Ireland. Orange activity was always a 
signal for that hostile party, and rumours of Ribbon- 
ism arose with the " No Popery" ferment in Ulster. 
Popular report, of course, exaggerated its secret 
workings, but even in the neighbourhood of Carrick- 
fergus a Ribbon lodge was said to hold nightly meet- 
ings, and plan another Popish insurrection. The 
leaders of that division were believed to be found in 
the household of Frank Finnerty, a farmer among 
the Antrim hills, whose homestead was visible from 
the battlements of the castle. His family was one 
of the few Catholio ones that had attained respecta- 
bility in the province — Frank being the occupant of a 
farm about fifty acres in extent, and held by what 
lawyers term a deed renewable for ever j a large, 
comfortable-looking thatch house, and farm stock and 
appurtenances, which few of his neighbours could 
surpass. They, however, chronicled, (a fact rare in 
the history of any family) that the Finnertys had 

been all just and prudent people for at least three 
generations, and had risen to their present importance 
solely through honest industry. Frank inherited that 
character and its consequent respect ; he was now an 
old man, white of hair, but still erect and active ; hit 
wife, Rose, was near his own age, but of a muoh 
feebler constitution. They had been married more 
than forty years, and had five grown-up sons, all re- 
siding with them, but no daughter. 

The Finnertys were a steadily-working and harmo- 
nious family, honourable in their station, and pious 
according to their creed. Neighbours of all sects 
spoke of them as kindly and obliging. The poor 
knew them to be charitable, and the parish priest never 
found them in arrears of either dues or duty ; yet 
there was a strange division of temper and mind 
among them. Frank Finnerty had a large stock of 
worldly prudence and every-day sense, which, com- 
bined with a frank and generous nature, made him a 
good husband, a worthy father, and a most successful 
farmer. Rose said she was "one of the O'Neills," 
but the woman rarely spoke on that subject, an ha- 
bitual delicacy or rather sickliness of frame, and the 
laborious duties of a farm-house, in which her vigi- 
lance supplied the place of activity, had tamed down 
to the reading of dreams and the love of rustic song 
and legend, a character originally belonging to the 
finest of the Celtic orders ; fiery but tender, keen but 
imaginative, given to wild beliefs and changeful moods, 
but never to forget or grow cold. Her four younger 
sons partook more or less of their mother's nature, 
but in their rougher sex and untaught youth it was 
allied with a fierceness of wrath which few cared to 
provoke, an almost fanatical enthusiasm, and a strange 
delight in perilous adventure. All parties agreed 
that young Frank, as they called the eldest son, by 
way of distinction from his father, was the flower 
of the Finnertys. Sensible, kind, and clever, was 
the popular summary of his character, the scholar 
and poet of his district. Frank had early acquired 
some education, thanks to his own abilities and those 
of a hedge schoolmaster, long and gratuitously boarded 
at the farm-house. His mother boasted that he had 
a shelf of books in the parlour, and could read them 
all, including a Douay Bible. Moreover, Frank in- 
terpreted the Latin prayers which his people were 
used to repeat, carried on the entire correspondence of 
the parish, and composed sundry songs to the old airs 
of his province, which, indeed, never found their way 
into print, but were sung at spinning wheel and har- 
vest home by many an admiring neighbour. 

Everybody knew that Frank was too wise to be a 
party man. Protestant farmers made choice of him as 
an arbitrator in their rustic disputes. The Presby- 
terian minister who (as then often occurred) had come 
from Scotland to Carrickfergus, with a strong horror 
of Popery, and a general suspicion of Ireland on his 
mind, talked with him freely at country wayside and 
inn ; and his own pastor, Father Phelim, an easy- 
minded polished man, who, like most priests of the 
last century, had been educated in France, and cared 
more for a social glass than the reins of spiritual 
power, occasionally remarked from the altar, that 
Frank Finnerty was an example to his flock, as none 
of them gave him to little trouble, 

With his. few brokers the mm w«a different* 



Strongly prejudiced in favour of their hereditary faith, 
and well-skilled in its traditional arguments, glories, 
and persecutions, but without Frank's judgment or 
knowledge, their zeal blazed up on the slightest token 
of Protestant domination, and many a furious contro- 
versy was terminated by blows between them and the 
adorers of King William. Sundry cases of assault and 
battery might thus have been proved against the Fin- 
nertys, but partly because they had always a ridiculous 
side, and partly on account of Frank and the old people, 
none of the sufferers had yet gone the length of pro- 
secution; and being tall, powerful young men, the four 
were a kind of standing admonition to the ultra-Pro- 
testants of their neighbourhood, who were by no means 
surprised when that rising rumour regarding the Rib- 
bon Lodge mentioned the senior pair, Art and Owen, 
as its leading members. 

This near approach of Ribbonism to the seat of his 
authority brought the mayor's Orange fervour to its 
deepest shade. He talked mightily of rebellions and 
massacres, advised all true Protestants to stand on the 
defence of their liberty and religion, and declared his 
own resolution to put down the murderous conspiracy. 
Jackson's family and the Finnertys had long known 
each other in the way of business. Catholics though 
the latter were, they brought the best farm produce to 
Carrickfergus market. The justice of their dealings, 
too, was proverbial, and all the ladies of the mayor's 
household patronised Mrs. Finnerty's dairy. Now, 
however, the mayor and mayoress for once according, 
discovered it was only encouraging Ribbonmen, and 
took the most public opportunity to notify the with- 
drawal of their custom. Old Fiunerty said, "it was 
hard for a common man to keep his senses and be 
called a mare." 

Art, to whom the intimation had been addressed in 
the course of his market business, delivered a rather 
lengthy reply, commencing with the sins of Henry the 
Eighth, and terminating with "parsecutin' thurncoats;" 
but it was remarked that Frank seemed more discom- 
forted than was his wont regarding pecuniary matters. 

The farm was Frank's legal inheritance, but he had 
lived till the age of thirty-five without appearing to 
think of matrimony. All his brothers followed his 
example, and it was a disputed point among their ac- 
quaintances whether the Finnertys thought no girl in 
the parish good enough for them, or "wud put no 
woman afore thir mother." "Shuns its munks the 
whole five of ye 'ill thurn all out" was the wonted 
conclusion of rallying friends — " why don't yez close 
up the doors and windys, and take to the doin' for 
your souls intirelyP" 

Frank usually replied by a series of observations on 
marryiug in haste and repenting at leisure ; but among 
the five young ladies partitioned off from Mrs. Jackson, 
there was one whose juvenility had remained singularly 
long in the reckoning of her sisters. Lucy Jackson 
had reached the wrong side of thirty, by common com- 
putation, a neat little girl, as all the Jacksons called 
her, with a quiet, comely face, which rather became 
the curls an old poet might have safely compared to 
the red gold. Lucy was the most popular, as well as 
the youngest of the five ; everybody called her good- 
natured and wise ; but owing to the prolonged youth 
already mentioned, she was generally employed on 
those family errands with which their limited gentility 

could not entrust a servant ; and they often conducted 
her steps to Mrs. Finnerty. Frank was always in the 
way on these occasions, but nothing was ever whis- 
pered on the subject, till one evening, about a month 
after Art's extempore lecture, when a terrible commotion 
arose in the mayor's house in consequence of a letter 
which a beggar-boy delivered to the elder sister, Miss 
Grace, in the twilight. It was read in the parlour, 
and the four immediately proceeded in a body with it 
to their brother ; but when he entered — according to 
old Peggy their servant, "clane mad"— the low parlour 
window was open, and Miss Lucy no where to be found. 

That was no great sign of her attributed wisdom, 
but Lucy knew her family, and what an unpardonable 
sin they would consider a correspondence with one of 
Frank's faith and race; besides, the gulph between 
them and the Finnertys had been lately deepened by 
private feud, but that unlucky accident brought on the 
complete discomfiture of the Jacksons. Frank, who 
had been waiting in hope of an interview, met Lucy 
on her terror-stricken flight, and having learned the 
state of the case, he took measures at once safe and 
honourable, by conducting her to his father's bouse, 
where he explained matters, and craved the old people's 
consent to an immediate wedding. Frank was their 
eldest and most valued son, and however against her 
family's consent, the match was, on the whole, rather 
creditable to the Finnertys. 

" Ye hive my consint wid a blissin', Frank," said 
the father. "It was nivir an onproper thing that 
crassed yirnotion, bit if we had all known soonner — " 

"Troth, I might hive known," said Rose, "thir wis 
two black crows in me drame last night, an a new 
branch on the ould tree in the garden. Miss Jackson, 
avourneen, yer welcome ; shore its me had need of a 

Frank's brothers, though more surprised, (for their 
mother's dream was not her only source of previous 
information,) were no less kind and cordial, but their 
satisfaction with the match arose chiefly from the tri- 
umph it afforded them over the Orange mayor. That, 
however, the young men had policy enough to keep 
among themselves till a regular licence was procured, 
and Frank and Lucy, to the utter astonishment of 
Carrickfergus, legally married in what Irish peasantry 
are accustomed to term the Parliament Church ; after 
which a wedding feast took place at the Finnertys' 
house, joyfully attended by all their Catholic acquain- 
tances, of course including Father Phelim, who was 
said to repeat the binding ceremony after his own 
fashion, with closed doors and sundry recommendations 
of quietness to all present. 

The state of the laws regarding Protestant and Ca- 
tholic marriages at that period justified these precau- 
tions, and the whole affair created an immense sensa- 
tion at Carrickfergus. Most of Lucy's neighbours 
bitterly blamed her, but some insinuated that her life 
among the four seniors had not been over pleasant, 
and Frank Finnerty was a fine fellow, though a Catholic. 
With the Jacksons it was war to the knife, and their 
indignation belonged not to the silent order. 

The mayor spent his social hours in alternately 
abusing and threatening the Finnertys. The mayoress 
commanded Lucy's name never to be mentioned in 
her presence, and advised her sisters-in-law not to 
] survive the disgrace, while they made the junior Mrs, 



Finnerty and her new connexions the subjeots of un- 
tiring vituperations. Friends and servants as usual 
were not slow in conveying these prelections to the 
farm house, aud the smouldering Are there was soon 
fanned into aflame ; old Frank and Rose, though often 
fretted, said little. Frank allowed no stranger to 
mention the subject to himself or Lucy, and the pair 
seemed to have made up their minds for the worst ; 
but his brothers lost no opportunity of repaying scorn 
with soorn. They recalled every epbode of Jackson's 
history most wished to be forgotten, and attacked the 
entire family with not only party but personal reflec- 
tions. As might be expected, the Catholic popula- 
tion of the pariah made common cause with the 
Finnertys, while the airs and sayings of their now over- 
exasperated adversaries were such as to gain them 
little respect among the better-informed Protestants ; 
but the Jacksons had one powerful assistant in their 
Lisburn brother-in-law. 

Gervaise Carson belonged to a class of characters 
unfortunately not rare among the forward men of his 
party. His knowledge might have been fairly divided 
between the Orange Lodge and the cock-pit ; these 
being, at least in Ireland, contemporary institutions, 
and, true to their spirit, he was a deep drinker, a 
desperate shot, and an ill-reputed bachelor, approaoh- 
ing fifty. The fact that both were presidents of those 
mysterious assemblies by which the nation was to be 
preserved from popery, originated between him and 
Jackson an intimacy closer than that of their legal 
connexion, while the superior cunning and boldness, 
as well as rank of Carson, made the latter look up to 
him as his ohief counsellor in all affairs of moment. 

The Lisburn mayor felt his honour involved in that 
of the family, and his observations on Lucy's match 
were neither made in private nor pleasing to the Fin- 
nertys. They and their Catholic friends accordingly 
responded with similar remarks on his personal his- 
tory and general character. Party spirit, that Irish 
root of bitterness, was largely intermingled with the 
whole, and hostile feelings on both sides became 
general throughout the parish. 

Poor Lucy had tried to live in peace at the farm-house, 
and partially succeeded; for the Finnertys, with all their 
provocations given and received, esteemed their sister- 
in-law, but those who knew her said the woman had 
got • care-worn anxious look since her marriage. 
Frank, too, looked troubled and uneasy. There was 
more ceremonious civility now, but less confidence be- 
tween him and his brothers, and the young men were 
given to talk apart, and go out on slight excuses on 
the long winter nights. These were shortening fast. 
It was the seventeenth of March, a day long dedicated 
to Ireland's patron saint, and celebrated by the 
wearing of cross and shamrock among the Catholic 
peasantry — no larger demonstration being for ages 
permitted in the Protestant north. Lncy sat alone 
spinning by the kitchen hearth, for night was falling 
fast, and Rose had gone to summon the men of her 
family, late at work in the adjoining field, to supper. 
The outer door had been left ajar, and deep in her 
thoughts the solitary spinner heard neither knock nor 
step till she was roused by a hand on her shoulder, 
and turned to see old Peggy her sister's servant, 
looking fearfully out from the red shawl, which as 
usual enveloped her head. 

"It's proud I'm to see ye, Miss Lucy — Mrs. Fin- 
nerty I mane," said Peggy, in a frightened whisper; 
" Lord be good till ye, an' thim ye'r come among. 
It's murdired entirely I would be if the Mair and his 
sisters foun this out, but I can't see my own sort kilt, 
avourneen. Warn the boys not to go out this night 
on the walkin', for your sweet fowl from Lisbum's 
in the house, an thiPs bad work a-brewin' ;" and the 
old woman dashed out with an agility which fear alone 
could have conferred upon her age. 

The walking to which Peggy so ominously alluded 
was a ribbon custom vaguely whispered of for many a 
year in Ulster. Debarred the glory of a daylight 
procession in St. Patrick's honour, it was said the 
dreaded lodges were wont to march at midnight with 
green sash and banner, through town and country, 
renewing their terrible oaths of hostility to their order 
at the very doors of the Orangemen. Lucy had dark 
forebodings of her brother's wrath, and still more of 
his Lisburn adviser ; she knew that the commander of 
Carrickfergus garrison belonged to their party, and the 
old servant's warning fell heavy on her mind. In 
a few minutes Frank entered, and scarce could she 
communicate Peggy's message, when the rest hurried in. 

" Say nothing about it, dear. I'll spake to the boys 
myself," whispered he ; and Lucy having an unwavering 
trust in him, busied heTself with the supper. It was 
got over quietly. Mrs. Finnerty and she resumed their 
wheels ; the old man took his seat by the fire, and Art, 
taking up his hat, inquired carelessly, " Is thir any of 
yes: for ould Billy Dogherty's wake ?" alluding to the 
house of a deceased neighbour about three miles dis- 

** It's cowld," said old Frank, lighting his pipe, " and 
far," rejoined Rose, "I'll go in the mornin, plaze God ; 
but hoys, yez ought to go, one does'nt know how thir 
own wake might be attinded." 

" Come away, then, boys," said Art ; and the three 
followed him to the door. Frank also stepped out 
among them. Five tall, strong men they were, and 
little dreaming that they stood together for the last 
time on that home threshold. "Boys, dear," said he, 
" ye know that I'm not of yer principles, but we're five 
brothers, an for the sakes of all that's here, as well 
as yourselves, take my advice, and do'nt go to walk 
this night— ould Peggy was here not an hour ago, warn- 
ing Lucy that Carson was in Carrickfergus, and the 
Orangemen had some plot on hands." 

*' Will we be frightened by the likes of them ?'* 
cried Art and Owen in a breath. 

" From uphoulden our pathron saint," rejoined Pat. 

" Docs my mother know ?" said young Con. 

"No," said Frank, "I could 'nt tell her; but sure 
there'ill be other Patrick's Days." 

" Thrue enough," said Art, in a tone of conviction. 
"We'll let the walkin' alone, for this night, boys;" 
but Frank did not perceive the signal he gave his bro- 
thers — " Wont you come to the wake house, Frank ? 
I'm tould thir's fun there in airnest." 

Frank didn't care for leaving Lucy, who never at- 
tended wakes, besides he was tired of the day's work, 
and rallying him on being a settled man now, the 
young men set out with a general promise " not to 
try the walkin'." Frank telegraphed Lucy that 
all was right, and seated himself by the fire; neigh- 
bours dropped m to cAtK-, and a glass in comfort 



was taken on Patrick's night ; but the young men 
didn't return. Hose remarked that "the div«r»uuu 
must be beyaut as will at Billy Dogherty 's wake," but 
it was bedtime, and the remnant of the household re- 
tired to rest. 

" The boys are in my mind, Lucy dear," said Frank, 
as soon as he and his wife were alone. " Somehow I 
would like to be sure they were at the wake, an if ye 
wait I'll run to Billy Dogherty's and bring them 
home for fear of meeting the Ribbonmen." 

Luey agreed, as the proposal seemed a safe one ; and, 
promising not to be long, Frank left her with his oft- 
repeated wish that they were " both far away at paice 
in Amirakay or Scotlan'," — by the way, two favourite 
quarters for Ulster emigration — " to hear no more of 
that worry in' party work." 

There was a bye-way leading through the fields to 
the wake house, into which Frank struck at once, aud 
arrived to find it still full of company, whose mirth 
seemed without limit, as the deceased had been one 
of life's superannuated. His son aud daughter-in-law 
welcomed Frank with a weeping declaration of how 
much ho had esteemed him, and an immediate sum- 
mons to tea in the parlour " with Father Phelim aud 
the oream of the neighbours." 

It would have given mortal offence to have refused 
that invitation, though Frank also learned that his 
brothers had gone about half-an-hour before by the 
Carriekfergns road, and in company with sundry young 
men be believed to be members of the Ribbon lodge; 
but being a prominent roan in that society, an addi- 
tional hour ekpsed before he could find sufficient ex- 
cuse for departure, which Frank at length took in 
spite of an earnest request to stay for company, and 
a friendly intimation that there was a fiddle in the 

Thinking that his brothers might be at home before 
him, and how anxious Lucy would be, for it was now 
past midnight, Frank's progress on the Carriekfergns 
road was rapid though solitary — it led past his father's 
door, but midway between that and the Dougherty's 
residence stood a house noted in the district as Alick 
Maginnis ' shebeen. It was, as that Celtic term denoted, 
a sort of half inn, half farm-house, where whisky could 
always be found, failing other entertainment for travel- 
lers, and owned by the above-named individual, with a 
son-in-law and two daughters, the entire family enjoying 
a local notoriety for warlike inclinations, unscrupulous 
consciences, and a boundless though ignorant attach- 
ment to the Orange cause. It was said the lodge 
occasionally met there, and, notwithstanding the dif- 
ference of rank, Jackson and his brother-in-law were 
on familiar terms with Alick. 

Frank had just reached the tall, thick hedge which 
parted his domain from the road, when he perceived 
there was still light within, and the same moment 
caught the heavy tramp of an approaching battalion. 
At once old Peggy's message, and the danger of being 
found in such a vicinity, flashed across his mind, and he 
instinctively stept into the shadow of the old hedge. It 
was a calm moonlight night, with masses of heavy clouds 
drifting along the sky; and, as one of them passed, Frank 
could see a troop now almost in front of Maginnis' house. 
It was the Ribbonmen in full array, and, to his horror, 
at their head marched Owen and Art. 

" H*lt 1" said the foimaj.uje a.^jone t, but it was 

followed by s lend report of fire-anus from within, and 
Frunk saw the leaders fall. A wild shout went up, the 
mingled cries of wrath and fear, and with it rose Frank 's 
voice, calling on his brothers, with a baud on the breast 
of each, but they did uot answer; and he scarcely 
heard the clash of arms, and the shout of "down with 
the Papbt rebels," with which a company of soldiers 
rushed from behind the very hedge that had sheltered 
lain. Ill armed, and worse prepared, as they were, the 
Ribbonmen tried to make a defence, but it was short. 
In less than fifteen minutes, the greater part had fled 
in wild confusion, and Frank remained among the Ave 
prisoners in the hands of the military, with a bayonet- 
stab in his right arm, received while covering the re- 
treat of his two younger brothers, who thus eseaped 
arrest. Owen and Art had been shot dead on the 
spot, as if aimed at ; by what hand was never known, 
but old Peggy told most of her neighbours, in confidence, 
that ucither the Mayor nor his brother-in-law had been 
in the house that night. Next morning there was 
news in Carrickfergus that Alick Maginnis had the 
uight before obtained a company of military for the 
protection of his house against the Ribbonmen, with 
the other particulars we have related. The Orange- 
men rejoiced in the ruin of a Ribbon Lodge ; but nobody 
could believe that Frank Finnerty had belonged to it. 
All the respectable Protestants believed his story ; but 
Jackson, who would accept no bail for his Catholio 
brother-iu-law, as some thought, because the broken, 
hearted man spoke of "justice to come for the poo* 
boys that had been waylaid and murdered in their folly;'* 
and Frank, with his fellow-prisoners, were committed 
to Carriekfergns jail, to take their trial at tho next 
assizes, for Ribbonism, aud an attempt to burn Magin- 
nis' house. 

On the terrible consequences of that night to the 
Finnerty s, old neighbours often enlarged in after years 
— how the father at once grew stooped and aged- 
how poor RoBe sunk into a state of sad and early 
dotage — how Pat aud Con turned sober boys about the 
house, and Lucy was never herself again. But a still 
stranger story followed regarding the Jaoksons. 

Gervaise Carson had gloried over the defeat of Rib- 
bonism at Carrickfergus, and gone homo in triumph, 
promising to be present at the ensuing assizes, when 
he publiely expressed his hope that the disgrace of a 
Protestant family would be transferred to Botany 
Bay ; but before that term arrived, the typhus fever, 
then prevailing in the dark old prison of Carriekfergns, 
had seized ou Frank and his companions in captivity, 
and their trial was postponed till another assize, which 
Gervaise Carson was destined never to see. As the sum- 
mer advanced, rumours began to spread, it was thought 
from the Mayor himself, of the Lisburu Orangemen's 
intention to celebrate the 12th of July (on which the 
party annually commemorated the Battle of the Boyne, 
in modes productive of many a minor battle), that sea- 
son, with peculiar solemnity, and a mounted procession 
to Carrickfergus, where their brethren should join them 
in saluting the before-mentioned stone, as a token of 
victory over Popish conspirators. 

The grand occasion was at only a month's distance, 
aud sundry preparatory steps had been taken, when 
Mr. Carson having attended a hunting dinner, and re- 
turned rather late one evening, was seised with sudden 
apoplexy, at the top of his own etais, sad fell to the 


bottom. Physicians and friends were of course at once 
summoned ; but the fit and accident together overcame 
his much-tasked strength, and he died ou the third day, 
to the deep regret of the Orange Lodge, who accorded 
htm the funeral honours of a grand master, and that of 
his brother-in-law, whose grief was only alleviated by 
the division of his property. 

Mr. Jackson never liked going abroad at night after 
that event, especially in the direction of Maginnis' 
shebeen, thongh he and Alick had many a private talk 
together. Frank and his fellow-prisoners bad slowly 
recovered — poor Lucy had caught the fever from 
visiting him, but she too was rallying, and the whole 
parish pitied that luckless pair, when tho troublesome 
12th came on, and the Lisburn Orangemen having agreed 
that their master's memory required the fulfilment of his 
project touching its celebration ; the Lodge of Car- 
rickfergus, not to be outdone in respect, determined to 
meet them half-way, a proposal to which the Mayor, 
being admonished by his lady, consented with great 

The way was long, and most of the Lodge, not-over 
well mounted — for ardent partizans are rarely a flourish- 
ing portion of any community — besides sundry delays 
for additional company at the hamlets in their track, 
were anticipated, and it was requisite to re-enter Car- 
rickfergus at an imposing hour ; so the Mayor and his 
company took the road soon after twelve, on a mid- 
summer night, warm but hazy, and without moon or 
star, but the faint light which never leaves our nor- 
thern skies at that season, sufficiently showed the 
broad outlines of objects as they passed. 

The Antrim roads, some sixty years ago, were far 
from their present state of improvement ; theirs was 
rough, and wound along the shore of that glorious bay, 
and Jackson, mounted on his own familiar steed, Jed 
tbe van. Next came Alick Maginnis, who occasionally 
dealt in horses, and straggling after him at unequal 
distances, the rest of the Lodge, rather iu their order 
of riding than rank. 

They had reached a narrow part of the road, with 
tall trees on one side, and a sea cliff on the other, when 


Jackson's horse started as if at seme object of fear. 
The mayor looked round and could see nothing; but 
he plainly heard tho sound of another horse beside bim. 
Agaiu the animal started, and tried to turn back. Jack- 
son struck and swore at bim ; but as the oath was 
uttered, he saw a man at his right hand, mounted on 
a large coal black horse. 

" For God's sake, who is that at your side ? " in* 
quired Alick Maginnis, from behind. 

"It's I," said a voice, which Jackson knew to be 
Carson's; "come back to settle what we'll get sworn 
against frank Finnerty and his dead brothers.'' 

The mayor heard no more, neither did Alick. It 
was said the former's horse never stopped till it 
reached the High Street of Belfast, and the latter re- 
turned a silent bewildered man, with that frightened 
lodge, to Carrickfergus. The procession from Lis- 
burn came in due time, and saluted the sacred stone ; 
but Jackson never led another march, though be re- 
turned home, as his lady remarked, rather indisposed, 
having lost his horse, which died, after that fearful 
gallop, in tbe shelter of a friendly stable. When the 
next assizes came no prosecutor appeared against 
Frank and tbe ribbonmen, who were eventually dis- 
charged, and the matter hushed up, as things could be 
managed in those days. 

All the Jacksons were observed to lead a more 
quiet life after that anniversary, but none of them 
ever cared for going to Lisburn. As for the Fin- 
nertys, matters prospered with them, and their farm 
was divided between the two remaining sous when 
they married ; for Frank aud Luey, tired of a scene 
where they had experienced so much of malice and 
misfortune, emigrated with what funds the family 
could afford them, and in time had a farm of their own 
on the banks of the Saint Lawrence, where, as their 
old neighbours were wont to remark — " Some wan ov 
thim tliurned for paice sake, but nobody ivir axed 
whether wur haritics or Romans ;" and it is said the 
rival factions of Orange and Ribbonmen have gradually 
dwindled away in Carrickfergus from the date of that 
midnight procession. 



TfflS ides of seeking in Owen Olendower, the hero 
or central figure of a grand historical romance was 
worthy of the rich and teeming mind in which it was 
conceived. It was suggested to the author, or, as 
probably, authoress, by Sir James Mackintosh, whose 
death deprived the writer of that friendly encourage- 
ment which might have cheered or lightened literary 
labour ; without, however, as we apprehend, aiding in 
auy material point to the accomplishment of the de- 
Bgn. It would require no ordinary powers to pour- 
tray a character so strangely mingled in its primary 
absents, and so changeful and fluctuating in its moral 

aspects as that of the Welsh chief, of whom it still re- 
mains doubtful whether he were the dupe of self delu- 
sion, or whether, as in other pious frauds, the superna- 
tural powers, at first feigned to serve the immediate 
purposes of policy and ambition, in a superstitious 
age came gradually to be believed as real, as they 
were found potent. But, whatever the philosophical 
historian may finally determine of Glendower, there 
can be no question of the judgment and taste of him 
who pointed out the heroic necromancer and his 
stirring period as high vantage ground to tbe imagi- 
native writer of romance. And this field has, on the 

•Two Vols. Benfley. 




whole, been ably occupied ; not so powerfully, however, 
in that psychological delineation of the heroic Cam- 
brian wizard, the princely Glendower, as in the broad, 
bold outline, of those contemporary characters and 
events which are interwoven with a story of well-sus- 
tained interest. The author has evidently prepared 
for the task by diligent research into the annals 
of the principality ; but especially into its traditions, 
legends, peculiar superstitions, and social usages. 
Illustrations obtained from this faithful course of study 
enrich, but also, at least to the impatient reader re- 
luctant to forego, for one moment, the thread of the 
narrative, sometimes encumber the page. This, how- 
ever, is only applicable to a first perusal. 

The story opens with a midnight adventure in the 
streets of London, of which the ringleaders are, the 
" mad wag" Prince Hal, and his usual train of merry 
"masquers ; in which the prince generously interferes 
for the rescue and safety of young Edmund Mortimer, 
Earl of March, the legitimate heir of the crown, and 
the object of the continual fears and inquietude of 
Henry IV., who never could believe the throne which 
he had usurped secure while auy of the Mortimer 
family survived. On this particular night the young 
Earl had been placed in imminent peril by the in- 
trigues of Sir Robert Neville, the villain of the piece, 
who sought to advance personal interests with the 
jealous and yet remorseful usurper, by plotting the 
destruction of his innocent rivals, and filling his mind 
with doubts of the loyalty and fidelity of all who ap 
proached him, not excepting his own son. History is 
dumb as to many of those adventures which, whether 
fact or fable, tell powerfully in the romance ; and, 
yet, nothing is better established than the gene* 
rous magnanimity, so strongly opposed to the 
narrow and jealous policy of his father, with which 
Henry V. treated the family of Mortimer, and 
the confidence and reliance with which his conduct 
inspired the Earl of March ; who, in ordinary circum 
stances, would have had the greatest reason to hale 
and distrust him. The opening scenes, in which the 
Prince and his carousing band baffle the villainous 
schemes of Neville, constitute "Prince Hal" the 
true hero of the story — the reader's hero — long be 
fore Glendower is seen. Disturbances, following the 
fatal battle of Shrewsbury, are again threatened in 
the Principality -, and Prince Barry, at the head of a 
gallant force, takes the route for Wales. Neville, his 
royal father's trusted minion and spy, accompanies the 
army, and as the best or only means of preserving 
Mortimer from the toils, the Prince carries him off 
from his place of concealment in London, under the 
character of a herald, bound by a religious vow to 
silence aud disguise. The march through the borders, 
and into Wales, affords scope for the author's powers 
as a landscape painter. Many of the fairest scenes 
in the Principality arc spread out before us under 
■till existing names, with passing glimpses of her 
ancient castles, and feudal strengths — now in ruins, 
then in their pride. The scene is by this time filled 
and alive with the various groups — the Prince and his 
friends, the watchful villain Neville, with the usual 
complement of mysterious pages, £c, &c. — whose 
mystery, by the way, is admirably preserved. There are, 

besides, episodes of chivalrous though lowly min- 
strels, devoted to high-souled Cambrian dames, and 
turbulent chiefs of all kinds, from the lofty and en- 
thusiastic Glendower — half-crazed with passionate na- 
tionality, pride of descent, and hatred of King Henry — 
to the boisterous Ap Jorworth, and the cautious, self- 
seeking Lord of Ruthen Castle, his sons-in-law. But 
the youngest and fairest of Glendower's daughters, 
Eva, educated at the Court of France, happily re- 
mained unmarried to become the heroine of this ro- 
mance. Through a series of cross chances, Eva gives 
her heart to Edmund Mortimer, her gallant protector, 
imagining him all the while the true Prince Harry, 
the enemy of Glendower, the usurper of the throne of 
Mortimer, to whom, as sovereign of England, her 
father owned fealty, while he claimed absolute do- 
minion in Wales. This misconception when Glendower 
and the other insurgents are everywhere defeated and 
scattered by the prowess of Harry Monmouth ; when 
her kinsmen were slain, her country subdued by her 
ungenerous and treacherous lover, plunges Eva into 
the deepest distress. Treacherous ! for had he not 
solemnly promised her peace, amnesty, mercy. And 
thus had Edmund Mortimer rashly oWe in his name, 
while mistaken for the "true Prince. To compli- 
cate her miseries, the arch-villain Neville, from mixed 
motives of revenge, pride, avarice, and what he pro- 
fanely called love, had well nigh got her into his power 
nnder the pretext of having captured her father, and 
her hand must be the ransom of Glendower's life and 
freedom. But now the end draws near. It is time 
that poetic justice were dealt on Neville, who falls by 
the hand of Lieutenant Poins, Prince Hal's, and the 
reader's old friends, whose sister, "poor Nell Poins," 
the ruffian had seduced. The painful delusion, which 
caused such agony to' t the lovely Eva, is happily dis- 
pelled, when seeking the hiding-places of the van- 
quished chief in the fastnesses to which he has been 
driven, she discovers in her imaginary Prince of Wales 
the real Edmund Mortimer and her true lover. She 
is more easily reconciled to the innocent deception he 
had been compelled to use than the reader may to her 
protracted bewilderment. The married lovers retire 
to the estate of the Earl in Ireland, until the blast is 
blown over, and the old lion stands at bay in hit 
Alpine territory and mountain fastnesses, until the 
death of the detested Bolingbrokc — the usurper 
Henry IV., when the accession to the throne of a more 
generous and gallant adversary opened the way for 
treaty with the undaunted outlaw. 

We have very faintly indicated the scheme and 
filling up of this attractive romance, in which, how- 
ever, we can promise the reader, instruction, enter- 
tainment, and much valuable information. Glendower's 
story has a moral too, which might, even at this day, 
be read with advantage, especially in Ireland. " How- 
ever favoured by ephemeral success; however struggling 
for the so-called liberties of Wales ; while spreading 
his own fame with that of the principahty throughout 
Europe, no eventual benefit was the result. Upon 
the land which he professed to love — the people for 
whom he fought — his allies and his sons — were entailed 
all the evils of civil war, expatriation, poverty, Ion of 
hereditary possession, loss of life." 

Digitized by 



TO ... • 

Tn, lady, you are passing fair, 

And pleasant to the eye — 
I've aaid that few with you compare, 

So, lady, still say I. 

In beauty that yon stand alone, 
I've said — so say I yet ; 
t much in wisdom I have grown, 
Since, lady, first we mot — 

For coral lips and starry eyes 

That witched the boy before. 
The man has learned, with years more wise, 

Alone, to prize no more. 

How, since that oftcn-thoujht-of night, 

That first — remembered ball — 
Tve sunned me in your beauty's sight, 

Is, lady, known to all ; 

How, since I've held me day by day, 

The servant of your will, 
It, lady, boots not now to say, 

Though well-remembered still. 

And have you lost a single grace, 

That so I am estranged P 
No — still the same in form and bee 

Are you ; 'tis I am changed. 

The secret, lady, would you know — 

The riddles would you spell, ■ 
How I, so bound, have freed me so ? 

Then, lady, mark me well : 

A tinted cheek — a lily brow — 

A tangling eye like yours, 
The thought of which can move me now, 

The boy's whole heart secures. 

But, lady, reason grows apace, 

So all that beauty can, 
Believe me, it will find a place 

Within the love of man. 

lor velvet cheeks — the starless night 

That slumbers in your hair — 
Tour rounded arms, soft veined, white, 

Alone the boy may care; 

The statue-like luxurious swell 

Of your full, peerless form, 
To blind, hot passion, lady, well, 

The boy's young heart may warm — 

Ay, so that it was first with me, 

To you I need not tell, 
Bnt more I've learned than eye can see, 

The man's heart needs as well. 

Awhile my fancy snared might be 

By beauty such as yours ; 
But beauty only, trust to me. 

No life-long love ensures ; 

The bonds grow weak — the ties will part 

That only beauty binds — 
Tew such there are but from the heart, 

The hand of time unwinds. 

And she who trusts to outward charms, 

And outward charms alone, 
That she by far too weakly arms 

'Gainst lime at last shall own. 

Good-temper — in that single word, 

Trust me, there lies a spell, 
Of power, of which you scarce have heard, 

That used, had served you well. 

In kindly words, forbearing love, 
A magic, lady, lies, 


* * * * 

Whose strength, all beauty's towers above, 
Whose power all coldness flies ; 

Young love may hold it worth no thought 

But, older grown, would miss. 
If with their loss it would be bought, 

Full many a grace for this. 

You had it not — ay, lady, there, 

Your riddle finds its key ; 
At first it caused me little care, 

At last 'twas all to me ; 

At first it mattered not to me 

If it were yours or no, 
Charm-bound, what might your temper be, 

I little cared to know. 

Its want, your beauty hid awhile — 

At last the knowledge came — 
Less witching grew your voice and smile, 

Nor long was I the same. 

Of love your eyes in vain might woo 

From mine their old return ; 
The knowledge of that blot in you 

I never could unlearn ; 

Against tliat knowledge for awhile 

I strove — I strove in vain — 
Its first-found sweetness in your smile 

I never found again ; 

Less witching grew with every day 

What in you charmed before ; 
Nor withered many months away 

Ere I could love no more. 

Your voice — ay, still I could bnt feel 

'Twas sweet as May-time's own, 
But love no longer could conceal 

Its many a jarring tone ; 

And from your large eyes, moonless night 

Not love itself could doubt, 
For other than its own sweet light 
At times came flashing out ; 

Not love itself could long deny 

The cold, unwelcome frown, 
Too often lined your forehead high, 

And drew your white brows down. 

Your wit — not I with truth could say 

That less it sparkled through 
The common talk of every day, 

Than it was wont to do ; 

But love to this no more was blind,*] 

That, round you little flung, 
That left no rankling sting behind. 

And pleased you as it stung. 

So wit and voice, and lip* and eye, 

The same one story told. 
And, telling it, in vain might try 

To bow me as of old. 

In looks like yours are fearful spells, 

The dullest heart to try — 
To eyes in which such sweetness dwells 

But few could love deny ; 

But in your sneers, your tart replies, 

Your biting jest and soon", 
The potent counter-charm there lies, 

That waves their witchery off; 

So has it, lady, been with me, 

Nor need I further tell 
How now I'm from your service free — 
Fair face— cold heart — IkreweD ! 
Greenwich. W. C. Bmmtt. 



This little irork, be it poem, or tragedy, or dra- 
matic essay of some middle class, has, it appears, 
already had many critics ; and, as with critics all, its 
judges, in the main, have been hard to please. One 
has said, "it is not this:" another avers, "it is not 
tliat :" one decerns it too elaborate ; another deside- 
rates heavier symptoms of heavier toil ; most wonder 
for what secretive or mystical purpose it has been 
published; and — critics being ever so deep, and so able 
to get deep into millstones — no one can find truth or 
explanation in Dr. Brown's own simple narrative. " It 
was composed a year and a half ago, when I was con- 
fined to the sofa of a country lodging by a sprain. 
Beyond the reach of society and books, lame below, 
but sound enough above, unaccustomed to be idle, and 
glad of a change of pursuits, I began it for amusement. 
It was then prosecuted for the purposes of exercise 
and self-culture, and, at the last, it was finished just 
for the sake of finishing what had been begun." 

The impulse thus accounted for and described, to 
which we owe the " Tragedy of Galileo, " is doubtless 
not such a divine afflatut as now and then takes hold 
of an intellect, masters it, and constrains it to some 
mighty achievement ; but, with all deference to criti- 
cism, it is far from new in literature, that slight op- 
portunities, improved in happy and resolute moods, can 
enable fine spirits to cast themselves for the while 
into trains of thought and even action, not the less 
worthy that they have been recreative, and which may 
be distinctly stamped with the character of the mind 
producing them, although the impress came only from 
a passing stroke. 

The "Tragedy of Galileo" is exquisite in concep- 
tion, and of loftiest aim. It is by no means so deeply 
out, nor are the tints so perfect, as one would be sure 
to find in any " labour" of Dr. Brown's "life ;" but, 
in every chief respect, it is eminently expressive of the 
purity of his genius, and the peculiar vividness and 
sensitiveness of his artistic perceptions. We shall 
explain briefly what "Galileo" is, and was meant 
to be. 

The tragedy is at once different from the tragedy of 
ordinary life, and the same. Tragedy, in its universal 
sense, is the tearing of a spirit from its moorings ; the 
destruction of its lore* or household gods ; and the 
picture of how it then bears itself. Usually we live 
amid mere passions or emotions : great souls stake 
themselves on dies of this description — the success or 
failure of a love, or an ambition, or a revenge. But there 
are spirits also — and the world may be thankful that 
there are — whose dwelling is with simple impassionate 
truth ; with discovery, which is the herald of all human 
progress ; with witchcraft in their own age, which is 
the next in wisdom ; with blasphemy and impiety, as 
say the moles around them, but which are really vast 
advancements of our knowledge of creation and the 
infinite mind. There have been who could die for 
such views. There was Bruno, there was Huss, there 
is a bright martyrology. Bat neither death nor per- 
secution is the full tragedy of this case. Though men 
suffer for truth, they may yet hold by it. The flames 
cannot burn such laret ; or, at the worst, they and the 

spirit clinging to them may bum together. The really 
frightful thing— that of which the name of Galileo will 
ever be the terrible symbol — is, forced recantation, the 
abandonment, through the fear of, or the killing influ- 
ence of external power, of all that one holds most 
sacred. An act so dread is not to be compared with 
a holocaust of the soul on the altar of its own temple : 
it is the destruction of the temple without the soul, 
which is left fleshless and shivering, without covering 
kindred or home ; or, as Galileo himself groaned forth 
in his agony, no better than a jabbering idiot, a spec- 
tacle and laughing-stock for the universe. 

In the management of his picture of the great 
Florentine, Dr. Brown has evinced much skill The 
wonderful old man, with prophet tongue, now and 
then appears personally, but we judge his greatness 
chiefly from its influences. The one grand direct 
view of the hero is his appearance before the ducal 
court, where he unfolds, at the request of the Duke, 
the nature of the conceptions possessing him. As this 
is the light that is to be quenched in the dire tragedy, 
we must give it in full :— 


"Prince cardinal, fair prinoeas, royal duke ! 
The son illumines onr antipodes; 
His vastitude, wrapped round with fiery (team, 
(A fiercer shirt than ever Nessus wore) 
Stands like a king among his courtiers sleek; 
Mercury, Venus, liars, our Earth, and Juno, 
This Jupiter, Saturnus — and another ; 
Each in his place about the touchless throne, 
Each at the distance measured by his rank, 
Proceeding ceaseless round the monarch mild, 
For mild he is, although he brooks not Nay. 
Some of those barons wear their knights in turn. 
The blaze of Mars and Venns hide their trains; 
Bear Earth is tended by her maid the moon ; 
Old Saturn's girdled by a thick-set host, 
Hinging him round as if he would rebel; 
Jove carries fonr, and three you've seen to-night. 
Usurper once of Greek and Roman fame, 
He now inclines before the sacred star 
Onr Sun of Grace has chosen for his sign. 
Shorn of his thund'roas glories, he retains— 
Only these Medicil 


"A. mere defiance: 
But certes this is poetry, not science. 

' In fine, this kingly court or solar system, 
Repeated many times and many ways, 
Maketh an empire huge, or constellation. 
Constellation upon constellation, endless piled, 
Builds up a firmament or milky-way. 
Firmament over firmament, and firmaments 
'Neath firmaments untold, unseen, unthought, 
Unspeakable, invisible, beyond 
All thinking, yea, beyond imagination, 
Bursting with life, yet musically ruled 
By the harmonious force that fills a stone : — 
Such is the world of ■ 

The author of the tragedy is right ; and, indeed, all 
history tells us that a splendour so undimmed as this 
could not arise in those times of midnight without pene- 
trating to the heart of many souls asleep, and telling 
them that what they had taken for day was, at best, a 
foul and murky morning. Still more, when the. man is 


♦ By .Samuel Brown, Edinburgh: James Hogg, London: R. 


considered who brought the tidings. Few, eren now, 
understand the entire greatness of the Royal Galileo. If 
he bore with him news of victory, it was also he who 
had won it — a glorious conqueror, everywhere — 'and 
every inch a King 1 A soholar of the first order, so 
learned that even in Italy he was famed for his classic 
lore ; the purest writer of his age, as still we feel 
when perusing his exquisite dialogues ; of taste so re- 
fined, that the best painters of the day consulted him 
with deference ; passionately fond of musio, and sel- 
dom surpassed on the Into ; of wit most sharp, and 
the keenest dialectic; — oould such a man have failed to 
sway the world, even though he had not trodden 
in glory within the chambers of that higher palace, 
whose floor is the boundless azure, and its roof yon 
" dear crystal of the infinite Heaven f " It is wrong 
utterly to imagine Galileo merely the quiet retired 
student, unnoticed and unknown. He did what even 
Copernicus could not do ; he made the deadly In- 
quisition shiver to its inmost and foulest dens; for 
they felt that the question had, through his surpas- 
sing genius, become one of death or life — it was the 
Inquisition or Galileo? We have in Dr. Brown's 
page, accordingly, no portraiture so false as less know- 
ledge or less discrimination might have given us, but 
the reality; a source of imperial light, piercing in 
every direction through the gloom, and disposing 
the hearts of men to turn and worship it. It was 
a fine and thoroughly artistic idea to attempt to mea- 
sure the intensity and nature of that light by its vic- 
torious struggle with so many shades and kinds of 
darkness ; and, perhaps, if the work before us had 
been more elaborate, Dr. Brown might have extended 
and farther varied this portion of his machinery ; but 
as we have it, there are many exquisite touches. The 
devotion of Agostino, the favourite pupil of the as- 
tronomer, would, indeed, hare been thought of by 
most writers, although its fervency and purity are here 
beautifully brought out by its contact with, and al- 
most entire resemblance to, his passionate affection 
for Marina: the shy, half-withheld, unwilling, but 
yet thorough subjection of the Lord Cardinal, and the 
entirely unreluctant tribute of the Princess, the type 
of high-souled earthly power — are touches of a subtler 
kind : but what mcst pleased us, and what is a good 
specimen of the many quiet and very searching things to 
be met with in this unpretending play, is the character 
of the beggar Marco — a representative of plain, hon- 
est, sturdy humanity :-— 


" That fellow cried you on ; now hearken me. 

Fve watched the itate o' things these fifty yean. 

forty of these I tolled as hard as bone, 

Firm flesh, hot blood, and honest soul could toil. 

Ten o' them Vrt begged, awaiting death. 

All the fifty I've kept an eager eye 

Upon the poortith-smitten m» we are. 

The church, our mother, has not baked us bread: 

The state, our father, seems too poor to buy. 

If or dukes, nor cardinals can prove our friends. 

We lire by chance ; are not forgotten merely— 

Because we're here to shout bravissimo ! 

"sxcosd uaunoss. 


"Tell us of him. 


"Winter hut year, one night I found him hare, 
Upon this very spot, tad asked an alms. 


He held his peace. 'He's just the churl they say,' 
Thought I, and went my way, but tamed to curse him. 
Then did I see the wight was lost in study: 
Skyward hi* eye, hie mind was yonder dearly. 
I begged again. He started, and, ' Alas, 
Old man,' he said, ' I'm alms ashamed to give: 
No man should supplicate his brother thus 
In Christendom; come home and sup with me.' 
Then did he lead me to his starry house; 
And there a blythe old servant-friend did spread 
A table for the sage, himself, and me. 
We ate together : nay, a young gallant 
Came from the roof, nor thought it rile to sit 
Beside poor Marco. Next, a heavenly maid 
Bote like a spirit by a little door i 
She did not eat — I knew not if she did; 
She only thoughtful moved about us all, 
Most like an angel. Galileo then, 
The heretic, impostor, and what not, 
- Bid speak With kindling lips of times to come 
When kind mankind shall make this world a borne 
For all the world, and one shall help another; 
Mother and father, sister, lover, friend, 
The only names. Whereon the sprightly girl's 
Fingers did play among the prophet's hair, 
And the gay youth did smile with courteous grace, 
And the old servant crossed himself apace, 
Saying, Amen; and I was only dumb I 
Misunderstanding men, recant your curses; 
Bound to the royal gate and bless his name, 
Send it with kisses to its native sky; 
His body's hare with as, his tool's on high! 


"The people's friend, bravissimo, cvo !" 

Of Marina, the astronomer's daughter, the " hea- 
venly maid," we would fain speak at length ; and yet 
what we might say would be too rough and rude— for 
though of earth she is not earthly. Her function in 
the play reminds us of the best uses of the old Greek 
chorus — to tell the high will of the gods; even while 
partaking of suffering, and tears, and terrestrial bewil- 
derment, ever to rise above them all, to look with un- 
bundling eye in the face of duty, to act, to live, or to 
die, and — whether through woe or joy — to long for the 
right, and to triumph. What a terrible affection that 
for Galileo, which, overlooking certain consequences, 
thinking only of tho nobler part of him — one hair of 
whose revered head was yet of more worth to her than 
Earth and all its kingdoms — could yet forbid him to 
disguise himself, or think of flight! Hjub is the 
scene : — 


" Children, the Inquisition Why, yon stait t 

She it a prudent matron of the Church, 
And wants mine instant presence ; — Shall I go* 
Our moblcd friends here warn and hid me flee. 
" Aoosniro. 

"Father and bride, one moment lost may lose 
The venture. Bare you hesitate f Away t 

"JACoro (riripphtj). 
" Master, make elf at one* in my canonicals. 


" What ssya my Gamba's daughter P 
"Go to Borne. 
Obey the call of destiny and heaven | 
Neglect the hint of cowardice and love. 
Who counsels Galileo not to stand, 
Or dares pronounce his name with words of flight P 
Shame on yon all ! To-night we watch in Borne: 



"No, not a step, proud girl! Mind you the house, 
See to my gear, to letters write replies, 
On with the work. Your lover needs yon here. 
Thou shalt he married, sweet, when I return. 
Thy duty then shall root thee at his side : 
A bride is not less duteous than a wife. 


" Oh, take us both, my father I Joy is not, 
Nor hope, nor lore to us without our sun. 


" In mercy, I adjure thee, hear her prayer. 


" Bid two young moons delay behind their world : 
Let as two sink wherever thou art plunged. 


" Rise to my heart, I hear them come ; one kiss. 
There, stand bye like a princess as than art : . 
Not a tear, not a word ; suppose me gone. 
O, Agostino, cling to her for life : 
She surely is the darling of the age ! 
I know her all by heart ; ay, every word : 
A matc h less child must prove a peerless wife. 

[He hteelt before the Cardinal/] 
A mimic blessing from a silent hand. 

[Ruing, he hisses the Princess' hand.} 
Adieu, there is a world of souls around I 
Farewell, Jacopo. Thou art needful here. 
Faithful old man, thy hand : Come, not a tear ! 

[The Friar enters with hit Myrmidons and Marco. 
He hand* Galileo the commission, who glances 
over it, and beckons hint to lead the way ; and they 
leave the Observatory Hie a funeral procession J' 

And yet, good reader, this Marina was no stoic ! 
No, no, she was all love, love ; only that highest love, 
which is love itself ; love, above time, because in- 
cluding'it ; love, whose child — duty is, and which sees 
duty as a child, and not as a taskmaster, or late. Look 
for farther iUnatrations of this fair young creature to 
page 85, or to the remarkable pages 64, 65, 66, and 
67 ; the latter being more striking and powerful in 
idea, than even in execution. Marina's fate is, perhaps, 
the direst in the piece, counting sorrow by ordinary 
standards ; yet she is not to be wept for ! Her death 
is like that of Cordelia — a great relief; we feel as 
if an overburdening sigh escaped us ; for at length she 
is free, away towards untroubled ether on the wings of 
» dove I 

Unhappily, our limits forbid farther details ; so we 
must on to the tragedy. The shapeless phantom 
ever in the background, at length comes forth, with 
the mystery and potency of Hell. Neither Galileo 
with his greatness ; neither the terrestrial powers and 
friendships which environ him; neither those bright 
voices from the Heavens which he has interpreted and 
declared ; nothing can withstand that phantom. It is 
Evil, with a form superhuman rather than human : but 
that day belonged to it. And yet it has no array of 
apparent power around it. It has no soldiery, no train 
of officials, none of the apparatus of mere outward force; 
it is seen glaring in the distance; it beckons its 
finger, and the work is done ! Hell incarnated; the 
very demon in human shape ; the blackness and dark- 
ness of the human heart distilled into deadliest poison, 
and tipping one fatal shaft : the shaft flew from a bow 
of Upas, in the midnight, but the aim was sure ! Alas! 
for our enlightened nineteenth century ! does not the 
midnight yet hustle with throngs of such arrows — 
thick and devastating as clouds of locusts ! — or, worse 


a thousand times, may they not fly all unnoticed, and 
therefore with deadlier aim, under the midday sun? 

In the pride and splendour of his fame, Galileo was 
summoned before the dark tribunal ; and we know the 
rest of the history. It is now beyond reach of doubt 
that the great Florentine suffered the ordinary torture ; 
that, with oath and impecation, he recanted. Dr. 
Brown has pictured the effects of this act, in the utter 
ruin and death of this illustrious man, better than any 
pen has yet done it. The entire scene is one of mad- 
dened and maddening delirium. The poor old man 
escapes with life ; but it is bodily life only, and that 
brief. His heart and soul are on fire, for he thinks 
that all earth and sea are filled with wild surging 
waves, bearing through the universe the tale of his 
infidelity. Let us read one heart-rending passage :— 

"Arcetri : the Library. 
" Marina alone : potion in a glass upon the table. 

" Poor earth, the mother of our wondrous bodies, 
Claims us for hers ; and silently complains 
Her children leave her ere their wings be grown, 
When sueh as time has not full-fledged depart : — 
How must she yearn when sleepless suicide 
Uplifts her wilful hand, but makes a pause ! 
To plunge within the naked world of souls, 
Alone, perhaps unknown, were horrible : 
The heart of woman shrinks from life so sheer, 
So bare and nnindued, so pure and cold: — 
Bnt I am looked for ere the sun go down. 

*0 faithful Agostino, be at hand ! 
Or, be thou rapt away to rule some star, 
My famous father joins my flight from Home:— 
His high renown will cleave the heavenly air, 
Until we quickly reach thy kindling poles ! 
He drinks his parting cup this very hour : — 
I must not be behind. 

[She drinks the potion. Cries of joy are 
heard from the street.] 



[Enter Lucia and Jacopo.] 


" Signora, think ! Bravissimo, my sweetheart 1 
The gladdest news, 0 joy ! Signora, joy 1 

" My dearest mistress, here's my master home, 
In triumph too : — Woe's me, were Keni here 1 
" Is toil the juice's deadly work begun P 

[Enter Galileo between the Friar and Masco. 
Marina tiara upon them without intelligence.] 
"friar jobs. 
" Thine honoured father 1 

[She still yawc* vaguely oh He group.} 


« Ay, thy father, child t 


" My very father P Speak, my father there ? 

"What ails my darling? 


"0 it is, it is! 
How lean and scared thou art — thou art not well! 
But how didst thou escape P Til hide thee here : 
Or shall we steal to Germany P— Alack, 
I cannot hide thee now, I cannot flee : — 
O lather, we are doomed I 


"Why, what has hapt 
More horrible at Arcetri than Borne 
To drive thee madder still than faithless met 




" Dost thott not know of Agostino's death, 
By traitorous Night the hag assassin's hand ? 


"Night, whom he worshipped like a Persian hoy I 
We are accursed, daughter: — Didst thon hear 
The roaring oath wherewith I aware 
Fair Night, with all her pomp, is false as fair t 
Ha, she hath struck me home with just revenge ! 


" 0 what, hait thon recanted P Never I never ! 


" Yes, in an hour of madness. 


" It was an hour of faith. 


"Faith, doubt, repentance, pain, in one wild cup 
I drank : The burning physic drove me mad. 
Nothing will heal me now but death's cold hand, 
Laid ou my smouldering heart and scorching brain : 
The heavenly will be done ! I merit all ; 
My guilt transcends reward : But why shouldst thou, 
My child, my beautiful, my blameless one 


"Hold : Rty give me none, beneath it now ! 
This thunderbolt hath turned me to a stone, 
And flit despair congeals my wondering blood. 
Call me not innocent : I have a tale 
As dreadful as thine own : 0 sinful house 1 

« Marina Gamba, stop ! Thy father sinks 
From sheer exhaustion, heart and head fordspent. 
Let him repose awhile, collect thy thoughts ; 
And, in an hour ot two, confer with calm, 
But frank humility about the past. 

{They let Galileo down upon a narrOK couch.'] 

"An hour or two I Amen. 

[She folk on her hues besifU her father, and puis 
her ami about him.'] 

" One ancient kiss 
Upon this diszy brow before we part ! 
May charitable nature give thee sleep 
Speedy and sweet, content, oblivious, deep." 

And can people say that this is no tragedy ? Why 
then, where is or ever was there tragedy, on the sur- 
face or daring the history of this rolling and toiling 
world t Was the story of the Moor a tragedy ? Deep 
indeed, and sore ! Bnt can yon compare the fancied 
infidelity of Desdemona with what would have been the 
Moor's agony, had he become aware of foul infidelity on 
his own part to her — his very angel P And there was 
that tottering old man who had seen the peerless 
Urania, and knelt before her in her courts, and sworn 
that he adored her, and felt himself encircled by the 
glory of her smile, awakening from his terrible trance 
to know that he had cursed her and denied her name ! 
Verily, he might well go forth and weep bitterly ! Bnt 
tears like titese, Earth will not receive or dry ! Like, 
Hamlet, Galileo was a wreck; and he could only 
hope that some Horatio, in better times, would explain 
or find excuse for his frailty, and show that, even yet, 
he deserved a portion of a good name. 

In his conduct of the recantation scene, Dr. Brown 
has gone into a question so dark, perplexed, and 
painful, that we know not if we ought to venture to 
follow him. It is the tubjective cause of the recanta- 
tion of the astronomer, or the form of the necessity 
as it then appeared to himself. His idea is, that in 
hjs dismal prison-house, racked and fevered, and. his 

nature all upturned, the sufferer may have thought that 
he had been too forward and confident ; and that in 
expounding the inner mysteries of the Universe he had 
trusted too much to the deceiving evidence of the 
senses. Hesitation of this sort, assuming bodily shape, 
may, Dr. Brown supposes, have momentarily recom- 
mended, or inclined him to those early thoughts con- 
cerning the sacredness and infallibility of the Church, 
in which, probably, his childhood was reared ; and so 
have elicited his recantation. We are not disposed 
to pronounce dogmatically on so difficult a subject; 
but we have strong doubts of the possibility of such a 
process of thought. It is true that the broken-down 
body often admits curious lights into the intellect — 
carrying it quite away from the course and form of 
thoughts by which it was surrounded when the sinews 
were quite knit, and the bowl unbroken ; but it js not 
according to our experience that a change like the fore- 
going ever does occur in such circumstances. We 
speak, too, from experience neither slight nor solitary. 
More than once has the writer of this been at the very 
entrance of the farther world, and seen a wondrous 
light streaming through its barred gates : but the part 
of our habitual nature which then vanishes is the un- 
real, the purely logical, the artificial. There is not a 
logical system on earth, touching on the concerns of 
the inner spirit, which can stand for a moment under 
the gaze of that clear eye with which we look ourselves 
through and through, on the turn of an almost fatal 
fever. Down they go, though high as Heaven, and 
covering the spacious earth with their bases — down they 
go like a house of cards, or rather, as the mist of a 
morning rolls away, they are gone! But never in our 
personal consciousness has one truth, whether of sense 
or reason, or intuition, been shaken in such crises ; 
and we would fain that Dr. Brown examine this pecu- 
liar question once more, modifying the part of his work 
relating to it, if he shall see cause ; for the special view 
he has taken, has no relation with the general texture 
or conduct of his tragedy. 

We must now bid our author farewell, with very 
sincere thanks. This tasteful little volume has given 
us much pleasure, and made us think, more than many 
ordinary ones. When he next happens to sprain his 
ancle, we pray him just to take a similar method of 
sendingaway ennui; so that we shallhave occasion again 
to thank him, probably, yet more. He will, perhaps, ex- 
cuse our saying, that of himself- — when his ancle is not 
sprained — we should all very gladly hear at as great 
length as he may choose. We were aware, some years 
ago, of the great sacrifice he considered himself entitled 
to make because of disputes concerning some of his 
scientific views; and we were sure that knowledge 
would gain from his temporary retirement, either 
through the substantiating of his opinions, or a full 
and distinct avowal of what had led a mind so acute 
and persevering, into error. We hoped the former, and 
still hope for it ; but hora fugii! and, in all frankness, 
we should prefer either alternative, to the misfortune 
that, by prolonging that withdrawal, he should keep 
himself really or apparently, and in any fashion or de- 
gree, out of clear and understood relationship with 
that army of Inquirers of which in many ways he would 
be a leading and distinguished chieftain — meanwhile, 
old friend ! adieu ! Euge et vale ! A pillar of fire is 
Ufdre thee ! 7>«fc fauMf' ze(S by ^ ^ 


Tub Czcaom* Acropolis which Edinburgh has 
been alleged to emulate under her designation of 
the Modern Atheni, was " one rait composition of 
architecture and sculpture," ai we are told by 
Pausanias, the most competent beoause the nearest 
contemporary authority. What measure of approxi- 
mation wo hare made to such a boast may be 
comprehended at a glance. Edinburgh has cer- 
tainly, before all eities in the United Kingdom, 
begun tin example of artistioal embellishment. 
There would be little difficulty in showing that 
London itself does not, in proportion to its extent 
and resources, display an equal amount of decora- 
tire taste, and certainly not an equivalent disposi- 
tion " to glory in the encouragement and excel In 
the praotice of art," after the spirit of the ancient 
Greeks, But before we oan exactly claim for 
Edinburgh the honour of rivalling her ancient pro- 
totype in sculpture, it may be wise to reflect for 
a moment orer the multitudinous fragments of that 
glorious art, which, surviving the wreck of ages, 
■till astonish with their systematic beauty, the 
modern worshippers of the antique ideal. 

In a pamphlet on " the Restoration of tho Par- 
thenon," by Mr. Cleghorn of Clepbans.a well-known 
Edinburgh eonnoieteur, we have an elaborate col- 
lation of all the accounts transmitted to us of that 
edifice, and its profuse and splendid sculptures. From 
tho ruinous and dilapidated state of the temple, it is 
obvious that much of its statuary had been totally 
destroyed. Tho remaining portions— known as tho 
Elgin marbles, now in the British Museum — are 
often so mutilated and defaced, as may bo noticed 
in the oasts at the Gallery of the Royal Institu- 
tion of Edinburgh, as often to indicate imperfectly, 
if at all, the objects originally represented. The 
east and the west pediments, we are however aware, 
were adorned with groups of statuary of heroio 
dimensions, some of them being entirely detached, 
emblematical of the birth of Minerva, and hor con- 
test with Neptune about the appellation of Athens. 
Figures so arranged, from the erect to tho recum- 
bent, as to fill the entire space of the tympanum, 
adorned the pediments, and formed two magnificent 
compositions in statuary, extending longitudinally 
nearly 80 feet, and including each about 20 figures. 
The sculptures in batto relievo, of which- the rolios 
are now in the British Museum, formed technically 
the Zoophorus or friexe "under tho soffit of the 
peripterus which crowned the exterior of the cella 
and its two vestibules." This friexe is held to have 
been descriptive of the grand quinquennial and 
panathenoio procession in honour of the goddess 

Having some fancy for directing attention to 
the profusion and splendour of antique sculpture, 
as contrasted with the isolated and scanty displays 
of modern art, we may as well indulge in an ex- 
tract from Mr. Cleghorn, which will serve, per- 
haps, to supply a hint of those illustrative purposes 
try which refined and creative skill may yet be- 
come instrumental jn coinmei&ox«tiDg (he haroum, 

the patriotism, and achievements of oar own coun- 
try, whilst perpetuating the genius of our sculp- 
tors. If told that it is now an idle dream to ima- 
gine that accumulated wealth and ultra-civilisa- 
tion will ever more indulge in those extravagant 
manifestations of taste which the embellishments 
of the ancient city of Athens indicated, we may 
urge that it is equally idle to predict the limits to 
which intellectual and artistioal refinement will 
extend in that future, which, with the blessing of 
Providence, is probably awaiting the social progress 
of man. Without arrogating to our age an undue 
superiority in intelligence, do we not know that its 
advancement in science has been prodigious, and 
that, in all that constitutes true knowledge, it has 
never been surpassed in learning or enlightenment ? 
and what does all this amount to, if not to the 
assurance of a future, bright with all the ameni- 
ties as well as other advantages of improved in- 
telligence ? Strange, indeed, should it be accounted, 
and only explicable through that billowy rise and 
fall which, through all ages, has characterised tho 
human lot; if, according to the prosent progression 
of intelligence, an age should not arrive, though 
generations may yet pass away without baring 
seen it, which, in all that is demonstrative of men- 
tal superiority, will surpass any age of the world. 
To act as pionoers to such a period is tho bounden 
duty of the present and each succeeding genera- 
tion. And yet, from the following summary of the 
artistic monuments of antiquity may be learned 
how much has eren to be accomplished to re- 
deem the past — not to say to transcend it in the 
future: — 

" The procession" of the Panathenaic frieie, tayi Mr. Cleghorn, 
" in two parallel lines, is represented advancing from east to 
west, both on the north and south aides of the temple, so that, 
by turning round the angles of the eastern front, they approached 
each other in the centre. Towards the centre of this front are 
twelve figures seated, supposed to be deities, from their superior 
sixe — one half facing the north, the other the south, for the 
purpose of reoeiving the heads of the respective columns. These 
two divisions of sitting figures are separated by five standing 
figures, which occupy the centre of the frieie. Visconti supposes 
them the anhephori delivering the baskets of unknown contents 
to the priestess of Minerva. The next figure he thinks is the 
Archon, or fUrtX.nn, King of the Sacred rites, who receives the 
peplus or sacred awning. With respect to the twelve seated 
figures, seven of which are male and five female, there stems 
great difficulty iu ascertaining what deities they are intended to 
represent. This proceeds from several causes : from the heads and 
countenances of many of them being either defaced or entirely obli- 
terated — from th« usual symbols and attributes which indicate the 
different deities m after-times not having been in use in the age 
of Pericles — and from many of the attributes and minute charac- 
teristics having been represented by metallic ornaments, of which 
only a few vestiges now remain. In the front of the six deities, 
facing the south, are six figures supposed to be magistrates - .one 
of them leaning on his staff. At the head of this oolamn are 
young women bearing trumpets, vases, and paterae. The* fol- 
lows a magistrate turning round to the sacrificial procession of 
oxen, some of whioh are proceeding quietly, others struggling to 
get loose from the men who are conducting them. Next appear 
(bur women bearing square instruments, followed by a crowd of 
people of different age*— the preostaiou being closed by nume- 
rous oars and harass. 



roagistraies, four (/whom are taming upon (tares. The seventh 
turns towards the procession, and appears giving directions to 
the two young women heading the other column, between 
whom and the next file is another magistrate similarly employed. 
Then follow females singly, some bearing vases, others candelabra 
and patens. On the north side commences a similar procession 
of victims, followed by meted (t X mf»ftfM) bearing trays of 
bread, and other offerings ; men carrying skins of wine, and play- 
ing on the Ante and lyre ; then a crowd of people of all ages on 
foot, closed like the others by cars and horsemen. On the wes- 
tern frieze the figures face the north, being a continuation of the 
northern eolamn of procession. It consists of dismounted horse- 
men, aoaompaniad by a magistrate, some fitting their buckskins, 
others their fcridles, some in the act of mounting and restraining 
their horses," 

There ii nothing in all this to overshadow us with 
a doubt of the possibility of its reproduction. We 
adduce the description as a detailed specimen of the 
simple and natural component objects of the high 
art of antiquity. And, more especially, in connec- 
tion with the modern sculptures of Edinburgh hare 
we two motives for placing the oitation promi- 
nently before the reader. The first is this ; The 
fact that a self-taught British artist, Mr. John 
Eenning, to whose penetrative sagacity is owing 
all that genius and learning failed to accomplish in 
the restoration of the Elgin marbles, from their in- 
explicable mutilation to the clear details of them 
furnished in the foregoing extract. He studied them 
in their fragmentary condition with that purely in- 
stinctive feeling for their original conception and 
design which may have animated the mind of Phi- 
dias, as they started to existenoe beneath his ohiseL 
John Henning and his sons followed, as they be- 
lieved, and as we too believe, the practice and ex- 
ample of the great sculptor of the Parthenon, when, 
standing on a scaffolding swung in middle air, they 
cut, with all the force and freedom of original genius, 
the figures that at this moment decorate the facade 
of the Athenmum Club House in Pall Mall. If the 
father (though by years of study) could solve the 
mystery of the Panathenaie procession, and the 
father and sons unhesitatingly execute the «*> pott 
facto embellishment of the Athenaeum, there surely 
need be little difficulty in emulating, even in modern 
times, the finest of the processions, groups, and 
sculptures of antiquity. 

A second motive inducing us to quote an exam- 
ple of the style and character of the Grecian sculp- 
tures, originates in the proposal of the very gen- 
tleman from whom we have extracted it for the re- 
storation of the Parthenon on the Calton Hill. Our 
readers are aware that this restoration is actually 
commenced, and in progress. Our present business 
is more expressly, however, with the sculptures it 
may be made to exhibit and contain; and although 
we shall not, even for the sake of furnishing forth 
an illustrious example, and upholding the practica- 
bility of copying it, enter farther with Mr. Cleghorn 
into the description of the friezes, comprising the 
Combats of the Centaurs and the Lapithae, the 
wan of the Amasons, or the warlike exploits of 
the Athenians, yet we most say, that there are 
scenes in Alison's History of Europe, or in the 
previous History of Scotland alone, 1 which might 
with ease and propriety be rendered equally com- 
memorative by art, and imperishable in stone. At 
the »Ms> time, It may be requisite to enumerate 

farther, for example's sake, some of the principal 
statuesque decorations of the ancient, against all 
we as yet possess in the modern Athens. 

There was in the Parthenon itself, erect* and 
robed to the feet, the Chryselephantine statue of 
Minerva, the chef tTceuvre of Phidias, in ivory and 
gold, in height reaching to the ceiling, helmeted 
and crested with a sphynx, panoplied with the 
Medusa's head, whilst a golden spear penetrated 
the roof, and glittered in - the sunlight. In this 
daring and gigantic composition, the gold alone, 
according to Thucydides, weighed forty talents, in 
value £120,000. Deem not for a moment that we 
favour the barbaric gold and pearl, worthy as such 
materials were of the value of the workmanship. 
No ; a block of fair Carrara marble, of Aberdeen 
granite even, or Binny freestone, is alike better 
suited for our grey atmosphere and dismal climate, 
and more secure from the cupidity of the Goths of 
time, than precious metals and perishable ani- 
mal materials ; although certainly it was a thought 
worthy of that fine spirit too early parted, the late 
Thomas Duncan, that gilded statuary was the 
thing for us ; and, for that matter, why not electro- 
plate the surfaces in these days of scientific appli- 
ances f To resume, however. Statues in bronze 
abundantly adorned the colonnade, as well as other . 
parts of the temple. Other, and not dissimilar, 
though certainly inferior, structures were placed on 
different levels of the Ceeropian rock. In. short, 
the Acropolis, at the period of the visit of Pausanias, 
in the reign of Marcus Aurelius, possessed the fill- 
lowing sculptures of the best times and of the 
greatest masters— passing over those of inferior 
note i— 

" The statue of Jupiter Pollias ; the Bigadomaclaa, the sub- 
ject of which was the battle of the Gods and the Giants ; the 
braaen colossus of Minerva, by Phidias, commonly called the 
Minerva Promachus, which was dedicated from the tenth of 
the spoils of Marathon ; the brazen Quadriga, dedicated from the 
tenth of the spoils of the battle of Chalcia ; the Hierum or Sanc- 
tuary of Venus Learn a, which contained the brazen lioness and 
statue of Venus by Calamis ; Minerva flaying Marsyas ; Theseus 
overcoming the Minotaur ; Phrixus sacrificing the ram ; Hercules 
slaying the serpents ; Minerva rising from the head of Jupiter; 
the Bull dedicated to the Areopagus ; the contest of Neptune 
and Minerva; the Jupiter of Lescharas, and the Jupiter 
Poliens ; the Apollo Parnopius by Phidias ; the Anacreou ; the 
statues of Io and Calista by Deinomenes ; the Olympodoras ; the 
Diana Lencophryne ; the ancient atatne of Minerva by Kndosus ; 
the colossal composition of Erechtheos and Eomolpua ; Cyenus 
fighting with Hercules ; Theseus finding the slipper* and auuiUla 
under the rock." 

But is it Buch imaginary or mythological subjects 
with which we would illustrate our monumental 
tastes? Mr. Cleghorn calmly, in his advocacy 
of a restoration of the Parthenon, suggests the re- 
mains of the Panathenaie and Phygiliau Marbles, 
with the casts from the Temple of Tlies -us &e., as 
models for compiling "a national sculpture for the 
pediments, friezes, and metopes, approaching as 
nearly to the general grouping and appearance of 
the original as circumstances and an infinitely hum- 
bler execution would permit." There an diffi- 
culties jnst at present in the way of even this much. 
And, first, for materials — where are theyt We 
have mentioned some native granite and freestone; 
and we are reminded that the pedisoests of the 



Madeleine of Paris are of sculptured stone, alike 
with]thoae of the new Exchange of London; whilst 
Mr. Barry, in his evidence on the application of 
sculpture to the Houses of Parliament, stated that 
he hy no means approved of white marble, because 
the effeot^would be crude and unsatisfactory, and 
very inharmonious with the building; but recom- 
mended any of the best kinds of stone, as the Caen 
■tone, or the Maltese stone, or the stone from Pains- 
viok, Gloucestershire. If Mr. Barry did not know 
then, he knows now, o'f the triumphs of our favourite 
native sculptor, Alexander Handyside Ritchie, in 
the common freestone -of Binny Quarry — whereof 
more anon— Mr. Ritchie having already executed 
a Gothic and a Norman figure for the House of 
Lords, injthe liver rook of that renowned stratum. 

Mr.'Cleghorn justly maintains that this applica- 
tion of sculpture would give an extraordinary im- 
pulse to our sculpture and high art. What although 
the costumes of modern heroes, of horse-guards and 
grenadiers, be less classical than those of Centanra 
andtLapithae? The national sculptors of the Con- 
tinent have already, in the publio edifices of Ber 
lin and Munioh, as well as in the Parisian Made- 
leine, surmounted this obstacle. Grecian and Ro- 
man statuaries themselves adhered little to national 
of periodio costumes; the pahtdamentum was thrown 
over the shoulder, or the loriea drawn round the 
middle'of the Roman figures especially, to display 
as far as possible the nude. And assuredly we 
should infinitely prefer the notions of Patric Park, 
who is now constructing a collossal nude of Wallace 
id his atelier in Pioardy Place, to those of Flaxman, 
at exemplified in his draping of Burns in the college 
library. Wallace, Park insists, was once a man, 
bat is now a myth, and has nothing to do with 
eostume ! It it a pity the great Flaxman did not 
think so when he indued Burns in a plaid, resem 
bling a Roman pahtdamentum— tor thus he might 
have avoided a conventional " classicality," so out 
ragoously out of character, in our peasant bard. The 
Greeks, though fond of the nude, made more fre 
quent use than is generally supposed, of national 
eostume, in statuary ; but they did not descend to 
every minute peculiarity of dress and equipment, 
Saddles, spurs, horse-shoes, and such things, they 
sever sculptured; and that unhappy artist who com- 
mitted suicide on account of some trifling imperfec 
tion of pastern discovered in the statue of King 
Charles's horse, in the Parliament Square, might 
have lived for that matter, unchallenged for his 
fault, in the days of Phidias or Praxiteles. It is 
thus conjectured that the British civil, or military, 
or naval costumes, whether of Celtio or Saxon 
origin, might easily be reduced to simple and gene 
ral forms sufficiently classic for sculpture ; and we 
may instance one felicitous adaptation in James 
Fillans's statue of Sir James Shaw, in his Alder 
manic robes, at the cross of Kilmarnock — another 
n Handyside Ritchie's Ralph Erskine, at the cross 
of Dunfermline — both of them being free from the 
mannerism of the effigies in modern costume that 
disfigure St Paul's Cathedral and Westminster 

The completion of the edifice on the Calton Hill 
and it* internal and external decoration with sculp 

ture, may be a work of time— -although, it it to be 
hoped, not quite so protracted as that of the Temple 
of Jupiter Olympias at Athens, for the completion 
of which the revenues of eightcentnries, and the do- 
nation of different states, were found inadequate — 
nor even of St. Peter's of the Vatican, for raising 
which a century and a half was required. The 
Gothic Duomo of Milan, completed at an enormous 
cost by the enterprising genius or caprice of Na- 
poleon, had previously received the contributions 
and labours of seven centuries. The Temple of the 
Madeleine at Paris occupied thirty years in its con- 
struction, .and the Walhalla at Ratisbon twelve ; 
whilst the museum of the Medici, at Florence, has 
remained for three oenturies incompleted. There 
is no room, therefore, for despair. There may be 
a disposition, indeed, to divert the decorations of 
Edinburgh from time to time in another direction. 
The movement towards completion of the National 
Monument has latterly been purposely deferred to 
admit of the completion of the Scott Monument, for 
inch there are figures yet required. The parade 
extending westwards from the base of that struc- 
ture it is also intended to ornament with statuary. 
But the example furnished by the erection of the 
German Walhalla onght t» stimulate to the esta- 
blishment of a similar monument for Scotland. The 
interior of the Walhalla consists of one large cham- 
ber, destined for the reception of busts and stones 
of distinguished Germans. The pediments are 
sculptured by Swanthaler. Caryatides of marble, 
stained like ivory, wifh richly-gilt drapery, in imita- 
tion of the ancient statues of ivory and gold, have 
been sculptured by Greek sculptors, with long beards, 
to support the ceiling over the gallery, on the colon- 
nades at either end of the interior. The imitation of 
the Greek statues of ivory and gold is accounted a 
happy idea, and commended for adoption in the 
National Monument of Scotland. 

By way of conceiving what is to be done, let ns 
now enumerate and criticise such works as we are 
either already possessed of, or are about to possess 
in Edinburgh. We shall adduce a faithful enume- 
ration ; we fear it may appear meagre in extent, 
and even in some of its items obscure; bat we do 
not think, upon the whole, that any other British 
city can outvie it, poor as it is. 

We begin with the King Charles of the Parlia- 
ment Square, and by an easy transition enter the 
Parliament House, in which are the statues of 
Erskine, Lord President Blair, &o. The busts of 
the Signet Library, the figures in the Council 
Chamber, Flaxman's Burns in the College library, 
Campbell's Duke of York on the Castle esplanade, 
the equestrian Earlof Hopetoun, Sir Francis Chan- 
trey's coiossalWilliam Pitt and George IV., Steele's 
Queen Victoria, the forthcoming equestrian Wel- 
lington, Scott, and the four figures of Prince 
Charles Edward, Meg Merrilees, the Last Minstrel, 
and Lady of the Lake, by A H. Ritchie, James 
Ritchie, and Patrick Slater. Handyside Ritchie's 
Tympanum of the Commercial Bank pediment, and 
emblematical group over the porch of the Highland 
Society's Museum ; John Steele's Tympanum of the 
" TenVirgins" on the pediment of the Standard In- 
surance Office ; Hygeia in the open Temple, at St 



Bernard's "Well; Esealapius and Hippocrates, by 
Handyside Ritchie, in front of the Royal College 
of Physicians, not forgetting Forrest's figure on 
the top of Melville's pillar, and the new emblema- 
tical figures surmounting the neighbouring columns 
of the British Linen Company's Bank; these, 
with numerous other monumental and votive sculp- 
tures of more or less merit, but perhaps less con- 
spicuously exhibited, make up the sum of our 
Edinburgh Street and Sculpture Gallery. Amongst 
these last, however, are Nolleken's bust of George 
Drummond at the Royal Infirmary; tho bust of 
the Rev. Dr. David Johnston of North Leith, at 
the Blind Asylum ; the rude bust of George Hcriot 
in the quadrangle of his hospital; Handyside 
Ritchie's monumental group in memory of the Rev. 
David Dickson of St. Cuthbert's, or West Church ; 
andSteel'smonument to the late Robert Jameson, in 
the same place of sepulture ; his bust of Dr. Patrick 
Neill, in the Hall of the Experimental Garden ; 
and, if ire may include them, the small square 
monumental urn of Linnaeus, and the urn on Play- 
fair's monument. Although we refer to these ceno- 
taphs, there may be other monumental sculptures 
besides, worthy to be included in this numeration, 
such as the fine monument of Lord Bolhaven in 
the chapel royal of Holyrood. It is not, however, 
in snch examples of art that Edinburgh excels ; 
and it would be wasting time to pursue the subject 
in that direction. 

Art and the Reformation, it is well known, were at 
variance; and in Edinburgh, the head-quarters of is hardly to be expected that many mo- 
numentsof antiquity would suavive^the surges of the 
popular fury, and the destructive warrants of Argyle 
and his destroying angels. One of the recent legion 
of pamphleteers which our most prolific of publish- 
ing seasons has produced, has thus described the 
effects of that crisis : «' It fell upon the arts of 
architecture, painting, and music, like a deadening 
blight. Those noble and magnificent structures 
that once existed in this country, the few remain- 
ing time-honoured ruins of which (ill the mind of the 
beholder with awe, wonder, and admiration, foil, 
with all of art that tbey contained, a prey to an 
unsparing ruthless zeal, never to be replaced. "• 
So sweeping, indeed, was the cleansing out in Edin- 
burgh of the Augean stable of ecclesiastical 
imagery, or, as Lord Lindsay would call it, 
" Christian Art," that though niche and canopy 
abound to toll where statue of saint, apostle, 
martyr, and virgin stood — save the grotesque 
figures of the late Trinity College Church, (now 
also removed) — we are not aware of above one or 
two exceptions to tbe general sentence of annihila- 
tion. The mode in which these appear to have 
escaped, is sufficiently whimsical. An alto relievo 
at the angle of John Knox's house has obviously 
been spared, under the impression of its being an 
orthodox representation of the Reformer himself, 
and not a Roman Catholic image of worship. And 
yet more recent investigation has shewed it to be 
nothing else. It represents Moses, we believe, at 
the burning bosh, with the inscription " God" in 

• " Observations on the State of the Art of Music in Scot- 
Jan* and its Capital." Edinburgh ; W, F. Wat . 

Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. The pulpit in which 
the figure has been enshrined as a Protestant 
saint, is, therefore, a bold innovation. In like 
manner, the effigies of the emperor Severus and 
his consort, Julia, on a slab of stone, built into the 
front wall of the house immediately opposite that 
of John Knox, have escaped, under the impression 
of their being representations of Adam and Eve, 
as which they are popularly known to this day. 
Pennant, in his Tour, designates this a Scotch mis- 
take, and quotes the misapplied inscription, Anno 
1621, which has absurdly been added to these fine 
profile specimens of Roman sculpture: — In sudore 
vultus tui veseerit pane — or, for the non-Latinated, 
"in the sweat of thy brow shalt thou earn thy 
bread," a very likely motto for a Roman emperor 
and his spouse ! Thus it seems, however, that these 
figures escaped the fate of all things Roman. We 
know that the Abbey of Holyrood was reduced to 
the bare and roofless walls of its Chapel Royal. 
And as for Trinity College Church — although we 
have clambered, daring its latter days, through all 
its impassable pinnacles to catch glimpses of its 
grotesque Gothic humour, inane nuns, droll fellows 
of monks, crouchant under the fancied burdens of 
waterspouts — waterspouts themselves, bent np 
double, with a good swinglo-tree under their knees, 
and playing all sorts of monkey tricks, nay, abso- 
lutely caricatured as monkeys — we, nevertheless, 
must leave to the Hon. Lord Coekburn the lamen- 
tation over the loss of this sculptured edifice : — 

"It was not only the oldest, bnt almost the only remaining 
Gothic structure in Edinburgh ; and those who understood the 
subject revered it as one of great architectural interest. Though 
never completed, what was of it was quite entire ; insomuch, that 
a congregation met in it. The presence of such a building honours 
n city. It was imputed to it that it was ill-formed and ill-placed 
for modern use. Both true ; but they are objections that enhance 
its importance. They disconnected it from modern times, and 
uses, and associations, and left it to be seen and felt solely as a 
monument of antiquity. Of what use, in the sense of these ob- 
jections, is any ruin P Yet this church was sacrificed, not to the 
necessities, but to the mere convenience of a railway. The rail- 
way had been finished, and was in action. But it wanted a few 
yards of more room for its station, and these it got by the de- 
struction of the finest piece of old architecture in Edinburgh. 
The spirit that did this, or that submitted to it, would carry a rail- 
way through Pompeii." — Cockburnm tie BetnUy of Edinburgh. 

But we must leave Lord Cookburn, like another 
Marius, amongst the ruins. Delenda est Carthago; 
and there's an ond of Trinity College Church. It 
was not of ruins we meant to speak, and yet there 
is another whoso stones, like those of this same 
Gothic shrine, are still surviving, 

" Bun Edin's cross — a pillar'd stone 
Bose ona turret octagon; 

But now is rased that monument 
Whence royal edict rang." 

. Lord Coekburn joins Sir Walter Scott in execrat- 
ing the author of the removal of this street obstruc- 
tion, who, since 1756, has thus been doubly damned 
in poetry and prose by two officials of the College 
of Justice. The " pillar'd stone " is, however, ex- 
tant. It stands upon the lawn in front of the 
house of Dram, four miles from Edinburgh, on the 
way to Dalkeith ; although Sir Walter himself 
had got into his Abbotaford Collection four carved 
heads appertaining to its decorated cross, and the 



cisUrn whioh, in gals days, need to flow -with. vino. 
And we entertain no doubt that if the Right 
Hon, Lord Provost, and the Hon. Lord Cockburn, 
inaline to restore thus maoh of " the beauty of 
Edinburgh," they may do it, as the latter sayi, 
"for a very small sum." We could easily point 
out to them a site which would exempt their nerves 
from the wide-street outcry — we mean the centre 
of the quadrangle at the Royal Exchange. 

Within the building now used as the Town- 
Counoil Chamber of Edinburgh, situated in that 
quadrangle, but which was originally the Custom 
House, then the Exchequer, and, finally, saw the 
scattered offices of tho Municipality collected un- 
der its roof, there is a piece of sculpture which, 
if not the finest, is, from its mysterious history and 
prominent position, probably not the least remark- 
able of our Edinburgh oolleotion. It is supposed 
to be the statue of Prince Charles Edward, from 
the circumstance of its having been disinterred in 
the burial-ground formerly attached to St. Giles' 
Cathedral, and afterwards forming the site of the 
Parliament Close. The supposition is, that in the 
hey-day of Edinburgh Jacobitism, this fine bronze 
had been commissioned from abroad, but having 
arrived too late, its alarmed importers had eon- 
signed it to the tomb, little dreaming that the Ma- 
gistrates of Edinburgh would elevate it to the 
place of honour as the chief ornament of the 
Counoil Chamber. It is a full-length figure, in an 
elegant and easy attitude, sustaining in the hand 
a lance or spear, and always reminds us of Shak- 
speare's admirable delineation of a youthful hero— 

" I nv Young Harry, with hii beaver up ; 
Hia eniwea on bis thigh," he. 

Availing ourselves of the courtesy of Mr. Sinclair, 
the depute city clerk, we were most solicitous to 
have obtained from the city records some trace of 
the history of this mysterious figure. Our united 
researches were, however, in vain. Arnot tells us, 
that, from the manner in which the records ware 
kept in 1685, the period of the erection of another 
statue, probably our finest equestrian monument 
(the forthcoming Wellington excepted), and un- 
doubtedly our earliest important piece of sculpture— 
we mean King Charles II., in the Parliament 
Square — it does not appear by whom that fine work 
was executed, nor at whose expense. He quaintly 
enough criticises the figure as being " naked, in the 
Roman manner, without spurs," fiic. ; nor does he 
omit to detail the facet Ue of the bar of his day re- 
garding the position it seems to have occupied in 
the Parliament Close, with the horse's tail turned 
towards an image of Justice, which, it appears, stood 
over the door of the Parliament House ; nor the 
remarks passed on its alleged resemblance to Ne- 
buchadnezzar's image ; nor the " great fact" that 
the setting upof thefigure cost the town 1,000 pounds 
(Scots of oourso). Aided by the gentleman above 
referred to, we ransacked the city records also for 
the singular history of this piece of sculpture — 
which seems even to have undergone vicissitudes as 
strange as those experienced by Louis Kirnego, 
alias the Merry Monaroh, himself ; for although 
never perched in a Royal Oak, or sheltered by an 
Alice Lee, the statue, horse and. map, appears lite* 

rally to ham long lain ensconced for safety in the) 
Calton QaoL Arnot especially notices that the 
statue bore, in his time, no inscription. This is 
no longer the case; for a lengthened rigmarole effu- 
sion in Latin, likening Charles at the Restoration 
to the sun bursting from a cloud, graces a portion 
of the pedestal ; and from our researches in the 
civic records, we find that on the 19th April, 1817, 
Dean of Guild Johnston reported to the town coun- 
cil the discovery of the tablet amongst some lumber 
belonging to the city, in the vault under the Par- 
liament House. This fulsome inscription is incom- 
plete ; but what remains is in all conscience quite 
enough. The tablet was replaced not only at that 
time, but again after the great fire in the Parlia- 
ment Close. On the 18th August, 1824, we find 
it reported that its internal supports had given 
way ; the superintendent of the town's works was 
therefore authorised to take it down and have it 
examined. The parties who chiefly interested 
themselves in its preservation were two citizens 
well known for their attachment to art, Messrs. 
Sclater (die cutter), and Bryson (watchmaker) ; 
and accordingly we find an acknowledgment on the 
6th November, 1833, on the eve of the city's bank- 
ruptcy, to the effect that Deacon Sclater had been 
mainly instrumental in preserving this valuable 
statue (and resouing it, we believe, from durance 
vile), and recognising his claim for expenses. On 
the 12th May, 1835, we find thanks accorded to 
the Lord Provost, Sir James SpittaL for his very 
great and successful exertions, whereby the great 
equestrian statue of King Charles II. had been 
again restored, and in so splendid a manner, to the 
Parliament Square ; and, finally, on the 22d Decem- 
ber following, we find the sum of £32 6s. 6i«L 
voted to pay the different accounts for repairing the 
statue previously to its being placed in the Parlia- 
ment Square. The hollow bronze, we believe, was 
not only provided anew with proper internal sup- 
ports, but filled with a composition resembling the 
paving asphalte now in use, so that it is very nearly 
possessed, as it stands, of absolute solidity. It is 
worthy of remark, in connection with the artistie 
details in the execution of its equine portion, 
that, as the city record bears, " at the same time, 
the superintendent expressed his gratitude to Con- 
vener Dick (eur well-known Professor of Veterinary 
Science), for his kind and gratuitous services in 
superintending the repairs on the horse, whose 
symmetry had been rendered* more perfect than 
ever by his attention." If the tradition goes right, 
the hapless artist must en this occasion have been 
perturbed in his sleep of death ; for the deficiency 
of a pastern, which made him a suicide, according 
to the popular recital, was nothing to the aberra- 
tion of symmetry detected by the eye of modern 
science. Professor Dick was just the man, how- 
ever, to put to rights the symmetry of a hone of 
bronze ; and in the spirited creation of Parliament 
Square, to accommodate whose rotundity of side 
the legs of the royal rider are most unceremoniously 
bent till the statue becomes more the statue of a 
horse than of a centaur, we most necessarily pos- 
sess the finest of all models of equestrian sculpture. 
Let «s now pass into tho Hall of the Parliament 



Snn, whale magnificent in, possessed of four 
superb pieces of sculpture, may almost be pro- 
nounced our prinoipal gallery of modern sculpture. 
Who, then, are the men whom Edinburgh delights 
to honour ? Burns knelt and wept upon a nameless 
poet's grays, and was left to rear his monument 
when " steeped in poverty to the. Tory lips." The 
Greyfriars holds no monuments more obscure than 
those of George Buohannan, Dr. Robertson (the 
Historian), and Or. Blaok (the father of Chemistry). 
First of all, however, we have, in " the Outer House" 
of the Court of Session, the expressive Boubilliae's 
pungent characteristic statue of Duncan Forbes 
of Culloden, Lord President of the Court during 
the troublous times of that rebellion which he 
patriotically impoverished himself to suppress, and 
which, by a striking coincidence, expired on his 
patrimonial property. This statue was erected at 
the expense of the Faculty. The figure is seated, 
but, in its animated attitude of delivering a oharge 
from the bench, seems to start forward on the 
spectator, who might almost expect the marble lips 
to speak. The outstretched hand— the intense and 
zealous posture — the sharp and somewhat finically 
complicated angles of the drapery, render this, in- 
deed, the most impassioned piece of sculpture we 
possess. There is a trifle, perhaps, of foreign exag? 
geration, contrasting greatly with the masculine vi- 
gour and staid dignity of the neighbouring produc- 
tions of Chan trey ; but, in the living spirit which has 
been made to possess the stone, you forgive and for- 
get that it is a French rather than a Highland Lord 
President whom Roubilliao has bestowed upon the 
Court of Session of the first half of last century. 
Chantrey's full length statue of Henry Dundas, 
Viscount Melville, is truly a noble figure. A bold 
breadth of drapery depends from the right shoulder 
athwart the body, giving majesty to the difficult 
costume of the statesman, and relief to the entire 
composition of this stalwart and stately form. Its 
proportions are colossal ; and, being elevated on a 
pedestal which places it at a due altitude before 
the eye, is really an imposing object ; difficult 
though it might be, in scann ing the merely common- 
place details composing it, to tell to what, besides its 
composed and steadfast mein, its dignity is attribu- 
table. A finer specimen, probably, of Chantrey's 
art will be found in the sitting figure of Lord Presi- 
dent Blair, so accurately characterised in " Peter's 
Letters to his Kinsfolks." This fine sculpture, 
which formerly occupied a niche in the first division 
of the Court, now forms one of the Outer House 
gallery of figures — tho remaining one for the 
nonce being also a seated and rather common- 
place figure, ascribed by many to Chantrey ; but 
we should say more resembling the style of Camp- 
bell, ol Robert Dundas of Arniston, Lord Advo- 
cate, and ultimately Lord Chief Baron of the Court 
of Exchequer in Scotland. This plain figure was 
ereotod at the expense of the county of Edinburgh ; 
and, prior to its removal to the niche in which it is 
presently immured, in the side wall of the Parlia- 
ment house, had, we believe, been absolutely lost 
sight of amongst the lumber appertaining to the 
County Hall, 
la the readtyj-room of the Advocate** Library, 

on tho same floor with the hail of the Outer House, 
is an old French bust, of sharp severity of feature, 
deoksd with the conqueror's bays, and representing 
the head of General King George II. In all pro- 
bability it is from the graphic chisel of Roubilliao, 
to whose style, as shown in the statue of Lord Pre- 
sident Forbes, it undoubtedly approximates. At 
the farther end of this apartment we have another 
of those exquisite works which Sir Franoia Chan- 
trey so frequently threw off in marble, abounding 
in character, feeling, and intellect— and breathing 
of inspiration, poetry, and life. It is the head of 
Baron Hume, 1832. There is but little hair deco- 
rating the posterior portion of the head ; but it is 
managed with supreme felicity. It would be diffi- 
cult to surpass the profound intelligence which 
Chan trey ^has infused into the meditative expres- 
sion of this head ; and, to the readers of his re- 
cently published biography, it may be prescribed 
as a study illustrative of the force of sentiment he 
could impress npon his works. A neighbouring 
bust of that celebrated philanthropist, the Hon. 
Henry Erskine, by P. Tournerelii, contrasts un- 
favourably with Chantrey's fine conception. Its 
aspect is sensual ; but great firmness is imparted 
by the curvature of the nose, despite the duplicat- 
ing tendency of the chin. Lot us do justice, however , 
to tho memory of Henry Erskine. He was in his 
time unquestionably one of the most eminent men 
on the Whig side of the bar, and beneath this dull 
phlegmatic exterior covered an exhaustless fund of 
wit, a love of poetry and music, and, what is 
better, a worm enthusiastic heart — for it is a well 
known anecdote, that when a poor suitor, in a 
remote district, was menaced by a wealthy neigh- 
bour with an expensive plea, he retorted, " Ye 
dinna ken what ye say ; thore's nae puir man in 
Scotland need want a freend while we have Harry 
Erskine." The bust was presented to the Faculty 
by Miss Craig of Edinburgh. 

In the upper vestibule of the elegant Signet 
Hall we have a bust of Colin Mackenzie of Port- 
more, by Campbell. He was deputy-keeper of tho 
Signet, and a great friend of Sir Walter Scolt. 
There is in this bust little room for the display of 
drapery ; yet it is managed with great decision. 
Confronting it is an early bust of Sir James Gib- 
son Craig — not now a good likeness of the venerable 
baronet — by Laurence Macdonald, now one of the 
most eminent sculptors settled at Rome, This 
is certainly not a good bust ; the plaid which 
envelopes it is singularly bulged and expanded. 
We might, perhaps, with propriety notice another 
ornament of this particular spot — it is a model of 
the Borghese vase in terra eottu, presented to the 
society by Mark Sprot, Esq., of Garnkirk, and 
made at his celebrated Garnkirk works. 

Attired in the robes and insignia of the Garter, 
in an absurd and awkward situation, slightly raised 
above the middle of the northern wall of the castle 
esplanade, stands Campbell's unprepossessing bust 
in bronze of the late Duke of York. This scion of 
royalty, who combined the functions of soldier and 
priest, might well have been left out of the statue 
gallery of the nation until his creditors had re* 
oeived payment of their just and lawful cUius, 


And yet he was the instrument of some little good 
in his day and generation— not as the wearer of the 
lawn sleeves of Osnaburgh-r»but as the friend of 
the poor soldier, in pitying his condition, and oausv 
ing his pay to he raised from <5d. to Is. a day. If, 
however, only one of his statues eonld have been 
spared to commemorate his younger brother, the 
beloved Edward, Duke of Kent, the father of oar 
Queen, it would have been more grateful in a na- 
tion's eyes than any of the eollossal bronzes reared 
to him of York. 

Flaiman's Burns, a figure in every respect a 
misconception of the peasant bard, removed from 
its inauspicions site* within the monument on the 
edge of the Calton Hill, has found shelter in the 
grand hall of the College Library, where there are 
several other marbles. We could have expected 
from the genius of Flaxman something more in 
keeping with the character of our nation's greatest 
poet. Burns is supposed to be apostrophising the. 
mountain daisy, which, no doubt, springs almost 
unseen at his foot; his bonnet is thrown down, but 
his plaid is made to perform the stage-property 
trick of Romanising the costume; and, as he stands 
with a furled scroll in his hand, he looks more like 
a Roman senator addressing the patres eonseripti, 
than like him who 

"Walked in glory and in pride, 
Following his ploagh along the mountain ride." 

The finish, and grace of execution, apart from 
the erroneous spirit and purpose of this work, are 
at the' same time exquisite. It is a fine mistake of 
a great sculptor, hut does not represent Burns in 
any possible phase of his existence. 

The bronze group of John, Earl of Hopetoun, 
and his steed, in front of the Royal Bank of Scot- 
land, St. Andrew's Square, h the work, we believe, 
of Mr. Campbell. It is exquisitely conceived in its 
arrangements, but obviously disproportioned in the 
relative animal forms of horse and man. The 
heroic and even colossal figure of this hero of Water- 
loo is immeasurably injured by the petite charac- 
ter of the steed. And yet there is spirit and aotion 
— we had almost said blood as well as spirit— mani- 
fested in the restrained impatience of the little 
Arab. The semi-recumbent attitude of the war- 
rior is rather affected. There is an elaboration of 
detail in this fine piece, which might be worthy of 

Surmounting the pillar in front, which, notwith- 
standing its flutes, is ridiculously said to copy tho 
column of Trojan at Rome, stands a freestone co- 
lossus of the same Lord Melville, commemorated in 
Chantrey's Parliament House marble. This figure, 
which is fourteen or sixteen feet high, is well ele- 
vated above the critical gaze; and, never having 
aspired so high as the top of the staircase within 
the column that sustains it, we really cannot more 
than guess at its merits. It is the work, we believe, 
of that untutored artist, Mr. Forrest, who has formed 
so extensive a popular exhibition of sculpture in 
freestone, on the Calton Hill. 

The great artist in freestone is decidedly Mr. 
Alexander Handyside Ritchie, from whose atelier 
proceed the three figures in the emblematic device 
surrounding the baUuatrade on the porch of the 

Highland and Agricultural Society's Museum, on 
George IV. Bridge; the spirited, rich, and pic- 
turesque sculpture of the tympanum of the pedi- 
ment of the Commercial Bank in George Street, 
the finest development we possess of the classical 
taste of the ancients for combining sculpture with 
architecture. The novel introduction of the figures 
of Esculapius and Hippocrates, surmounted by a 
third of Hygeia, so nobly and justly poised and pro- 
portioned over the porch of the new Physicians' Hall 
in Queen Street (an idea which seems to have been 
carried out in placing his six figures just perched a- 
top of the magnificent columns forming the frontage 
of the British Linen Company's new bank in St. 
Andrew's Square),* and the first two out of the only 
four subordinate figures that have, as yet, been sup- 
plied to the Scott monument, viz.: — "The Bonnie 
Prince Charlie,*' and "Meg Merrilees" — the other 
two, "The Last Minstrel," and "Lady of the Lake," 
having been executed respectively by James Ritchie 
and Patrick Slater. The freestone figures attached 
to the Scott monument are not easily discernible 
amidst the Gothic tracery from the Princes Street 
promenade ; but they are fine free sculptures, and 
merit a closer inspection by ascending to the balus- 
trade on their level. 

**We must not forget, in passing, that Mr. John 
Steele, a sculptor; of whom we shall immediately 
have infinitely more to say, has, npon the tympanum 
of the little pediment of the Standard Insurance 
office, in George Street, produced, in alto relievo, a 
representation of the parable of the " Ten Virgins,'* 
which is stated to have been the first application in 
Edinburgh of this truly Grecian embellishment to 

The grand embellishments of George Street are, 
however, Chantrey's colossal bronzes of George 
IV. and William Pitt. The figure of George IV. 
wants dignity. To display the gartered leg, the 
drapery is violently parted, and the head and shoul- 
ders are thrown back into an attitude which gives a 
serio-comic strut to the entire deportment. It is 
not the most "finished gentleman of Europe" 
whom we see before us; but some stage king — "a 
king of shreds and patches ;" " a poor player, 
whose pride lies in his ham-strings. " The way in 
which the sceptre, too, reposes on the arm, so as to 
resemble tho mode in which a pen is wielded, rather 
than that with which the emblem of royalty is 
grasped, deprives the latter of its significance. 
The king is crownless; and But for the striking 
likeness and real majesty involved in the drapery 
of tho figure (one solitary fault excepted), it might 
be taken to represent not the first magistrate of the 
realm, but the legal order of Edinburgh, in the 
person of some advocate's first clerk. 

With the statue of Pitt it is different. He 
is a noble fellow. Dignity informs every linea- 
ment of his frame. He adjusts his toga like a se- 
nator, and rears in stupendous moral supremacy his 

* The completion of these emblematical figure*, by Mr. 

Ritchie, representing Navigation, Commeroo, Manufacture?, 
Agriculture, Soience, and Att, haa just been effected, and 
the scaffolding removed. There ia a curious story told of 
the head of Agriculture coming off as it was hoisted to its 
plaoe— a circumstance of ominous aspect at the present u»h 



" Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear 
The weight of heaviest cabinets." 

In strength, force, and perspicuity of character, 
Chantrey's Pitt is, perhaps, his finest statue. 

Steele's figure of her present Majesty surmount- 
ing the pediment of the Royal Institution, though 
rendered a little rigid in outline, chiefly from the 
notches in the mural crown with which he has 
encircled the brow of our Sovereign Lady, is very 
happily proportioned. It is not easy to conceive 
how a sitting figure could be gracefully placed on 
the top of a building, or anywhere in the outer air. 
The great faults of Chantrey's James "Watt (Glas- 
gow) and Steele's Sir Walter Scott (Edinburgh), 
arise from this difficulty. In the Queen, Mr. John 
Steele has produced a pyramidical effect, which 
harmonises the mass, however, as every regular 
geometrical figure must do, to the eye. It is true that 
the folds of the drapery are too much attenuated, 
and broken-up, as it were, into tangled threads, 
as if her Majesty had been attired for the occasion, 
not in the richest brocade, but in the fankest taffeta. 
The neck is also too extended for that of our Most 
Gracious Queen, as iu a mere question of personal 
resemblance. But that matters little; And on the 
whole, in its present position, environed by the 
finely-sculptured sphynxes of the same author, 
looking forth from the wings of this edifice of the 
age, dedicated to the arts and sciences, upon the 
far future, with the calm of prophecy in their mien, 
the Victoria statue of grey freestone is one of our 
most pleasing sculptures. 

The'Soott statue, from the immensely dispropor- 
tioned space it is left to fill, within the lofty pointed 
arches of the monument, has dwindled into an abyss 
of insignificance, in which, though as fine and 
characteristic a performance as Steele has yet pro- 
duced, it is utterly sacrificed. It must either be 
raised to exclude the sky, or some species of Gothic 
canopy must be contrived to interveno skyward, 
and shut up the great and garish blank that di- 
minishes it to a speck. Indeed, however outrageous 
a departure it might seem from the architectural 
design, we should prefer the latter expedient, and 
that from a feeling that, low as this statue sits, it 
could not, as a sitting figure, bo elevated much 
without exciting that painful commiseration occa- 
sioned by beholding the bare-headed figure of the 
statue in honour of James Watt, exposed in a snow 

storm on an open pedestal in George Square, Glas- 
gow. Mr. Steele has been less felioitous in his 
drapery of Scott than even in that of Queen Victoria. 
The " mighty magician," rolled in his plaid and 
seated in the cold draught of these open arches, is in 
anything but a heroic or dignified situation. Date 
obolum Belisario is the voice wo almost expect to 
hear emanating from Scott's Gothio shrine. The 
folds, too, are frittered away till all the fine effects 
which, in colossal figures, are obtained from the 
judicious management of drapery, disappear and 
become tiresome and trivial in the multiplicity of 
petty details into which they are distributed. "But," 
it may be asked, " is the figure colossal?" It would 
seem so, from the tale of some fatalities attending 
the shipment and debarcation of the block of grey 
Carrara marble whence it is. cut. When the block, 
weighing from 30 to 33 tons, was in process of being 
shipped at Leghorn, the shears in which it was 
swung on board snapt, and the ponderous mass, in 
the first place, descended right through the bottom 
of the vessel into the sea. On being fished out and 
conveyed to Leith, a similar catastrophe very nearly 
occurred to it, from the difficulty experienced in 
finding apparatus and tackling adequate to effect 
its landing. Placed, at length, upon a four-wheeled 
truck, it was transported to Mr. Steele's studio by 
a team of twenty powerful horses, in a sort of tri- 
umphal procession. Yet for all this, the general 
effeot of the figure is now reduced, solely from the 
disadvantages of its position, (materially enhanced, 
however, by the faulty drapery,) to proportions any* 
thing but colossal in appearance. 

And now, ■ what remains for us to notice ? With 
even the existence of Nolleken's bust of George 
Drummond in the Royal Infirmary very few are 
acquainted: very many opportunities, however, 
occur for the exhibiton of Steele's finely character, 
istio bust of Dr. Patrick Neill, in the hall of the 
Experimental Garden at Inverleith. Of Steele's 
busts, another nnd a very fine one of Earl- Grey 
exists in the Couucil Chamber ; in which place 
there is also a bust of George III., by P. Tourner- 
elli, erected at an expense of £128 to the city in 
March, 1814 ; a full-length statue of that monarch, 
by the Hon. Mrs. Darner, is also placed under the 
dome of the General Register House. The monu- 
mental productions of the Hygeia of St. Bernard's 
Well, &c, we shall not presume to discuss. 


TfflsExecutive will most probably meet the Legis- 
lative division of the State on magazine-day. The 
contents of the speech from the throne must, there- 
fore, be concealed from us while we write; and the 
•vent would follow too closely on the prediction to 
allow us to guess or divine the contents of the 
parliamentary programme before its official ap- 
pearance. The Queen will advise and promise 
economy — that is a safe assumption, for the same 
course has been taken in all the Royal speeches of 


the century; a reduction in the army will be pro- 
mised, because some time will elapse before the 
estimates be submitted, and the Ministry will, 
during the interval, consider the propriety of ob- 
serving this conditional promise; very little will be 
said on the Eastern question, since the public inte- 
rest might suffer by the publie being told plainly 
what they may have read in tne correspondence of 
the daily journals at any time for some months 
past ; and we are informed that the electoral fran- 



chise may be submitted to reconsideration ; and 
although we place little reliance on the informa- 
tion, yet the rumour induces us to turn oyer again 
this question, which is already more superannuated 
than poor Peter Peebles' law pleas, with the view 
of finding light in and an exit from the dark tunnel 
in which, longer than any other question, the suf- 
frage agitation seems doomed to more. 

The hints offered by us in January regarding 
the suffrage were not put forward as new, or strik- 
ing, or Tery remarkable in any way, but merely as 
the means of compromising a difficulty, and turning 
an endless motion to some practical end. We pre- 
viously suggested a similar course; and we think 
now, as before, that, however certain the realisation 
of any soheme may be fifteen or twenty years 
hence, that an instalment at the present date, 
without prejudice to the claim for the balance, is 
an advantage that may reasonably be desired. 
We are told by sanguine friends that our proposals 
are too late — that the struggle is orer, nearly— 
and the victory is won, nearly. If their convic- 
tions be correct, and if they be better acquainted 
with the state of the case than we are, the circum- 
stance will not distress us, and our proposals will 
do no harm. "We remember the exultation regard- 
ing the Reform Bill, and the wide-spread convic- 
tion that a good time was coming, and that the 
golden age was trampling hard on the heels of the 
then current months; and we have seen and shared 
the disappointed hopes from that measure, not 
altogether in vain. Six years afterwards, we met 
an able and an honest advocate of the points enter- 
tained in the Charter. The agitation in favour of 
these views was more formidable at that time than 
now. We urged the propriety of an arrangement 
on a different basis, calculated in a few years to 
work ont all that was sought, by educating as it 
advanced. The gentleman to whom we refer liked 
the scheme. He allowed that it was more likely 
to improve the condition of the working classes 
than the plan proposed; but he added that his 
friends were committed to the measures they advo- 
cated — that they would carry thorn in a few years; 
and that, if in five years they were not successful, 
he and others would mature this system, which, he 
felt, would silence all objections, except those which 
originated exclusively in an unjust love for power, 
and would bo carried. Five years passed, and he 
was actively engaged in other pursuits, and had 
thrown aside the Suffragemovement, under the con- 
viction that nothing could be done for its promotion 
in the present day and generation. So we have seen, 
one by one until the eases have become many, en- 
thusiasm degenerate into indifference, and zeal 
freeze into apathy, under the discouraging influ- 
ence of delay, and the proverbial power to sicken 
possessed by hope deferred. The friends of the 
people at the close of the last century have passed 
away, and the extension of suffrage proposed 
by them is not yet accomplished. The men of 
1819 have beon greatly thinned in thirty years, 
and their object has yet to be effected. Burdett, 
Cobbet, and Hunt, have been succeeded by other 
prominent reformers ; and are the latter, like the 
former, to leave a legacy of suffrage agitation to 

the next generation ? Is Britain- to have a per- 
petual succession of agitation from one generation 
to another on this topic ? Is it even to have some 
long period of struggle — two or three generations — 
before a definite end be reached ? The questions 
are interesting ; for, it might bo wiser to fix upon 
some point where all parties would meet now, 
rather than wait for thirty years our arrival at a 
position, in an abstract view, higher and more ad- 
vantageous than the lowly practical ground on 
which we may step at once. The franchise is the 
means to an end ; and the end is noglectcd, while 
the country ferments periodically regarding the 
means. Great practical questions of currency 
and labour, of land and leases, of sanatory and 
social reform, are overlooked, because men's minds 
are occupied with discussions on the suffrage. It 
is possible to enact bad laws in a Legislative As- 
sembly, elected upon the most extensive franchise. 
The United States support slavery, slave-breediug, 
and slave-dealing, with a representation based on 
the broadest surface. The National Assembly of 
France decreed the bombardment of Rome for the 
restoration of the Pope, and the establishment of 
schools for the better training of youth " to despot- 
ism ;" although its members are elected by Uni- 
versal Suffrage. Similar results are not to be 
expected in this country ; and we mention these 
facts only to justify such a political heresy as 
this, namely, that if we had a franchise based on 
the ago of twenty-five, Instead of twenty-one, we 
should not participate in any labour that might bo 
proposed for the purposo of cutting off the four 
extra years. Some parties, with a keener per- 
ception of political rights than we possess, might 
insist on agitation for twenty-one. We should, on 
the other hand, be pleased with twenty-five, or 
any similar year which might be In practice. Our 
object is cheap and good Government, so contrived 
that all classes may be fully represented in Its 

Tho Cabinet get credit for some new scheme on 
this topic. Its nature is not yet explained ; but 
if it be as stated in some quarters, the enfranchise- 
ment of all ten-pound tenants in counties, and all 
rate-payers in burghs — it will be supported by 
many parties who might wish a larger bill, but 
will tako cheerfully the measure that they can 

The planproposedinthismagazine sometime since, 
merely because it might be easily obtained, has no 
startling features, and thus no great recommenda- 
tion to those who hunt for original ideas. We pro- 
pose merely to give the capital invested in a forty- 
shilling freehold the same political privilege in any 
other form that it commands in land. This part 
of the plan is only a project for extending the forty- 
shilling freehold qualification, and making It more 
easily and profitably attainable in towns than it it 
at present. Land alone qualifies under the exist- 
ing law of England ; but land represents merely 
its money value, anil the thing bought should not 
confer political privileges greater than tho means of 

A good reason cannot be givenfor refusing a privilege 
to leasehold property that is attached to freehold, or 



for the legislative assumption that heritable property 
is of more importance to the nation than ita moveable 
goods and chattels. Land is not of greater public 
importance than the road that gives value to the soil ; 
and if an industrious man saves money for investment 
in roads, he should not be worse treated than if he 
had found a patch of land to suit his purpose. The 
spirit of the law at present existing will not be vio- 
lated by a change in the letter of the statute. The 
words confine the power of qualification to heritable 
property ; while the spirit of the law clearly is, that any 
person who has acquired a given amount of property, 
of any description, unconnected with his immediate 
profession or trade, shall be invested with the full 
rights of citizenship, while he continues to hold that 
property. We want an extension of the letter of the 
statute to the full stretoh of its spirit, .and an exten- 
sion of the law, thus amended, from England, to Ire- 
land and Scotland. The new forty-shilling freeholds 
of England are said to be, in many instances, already 
mortgaged. This system is merely an evasion of the 
law practised also often in the qualifications of repre- 
sentatives. The evasion may be deemed a virtuous 
deed by those who say that the property qualifications 
for electors and representatives should be at once re- 
pealed ; but all evasions are immoral ; and the end 
never justifies the use of bad or exceptional means. 
So long as the Legislature require a property qualifica- 
tion, they should not be satisfied with the shadow, but 
exact the substance. They cannot inquire with pro- 
priety into private affairs. Inquisitions of that nature 
are not favourably regarded either in this country or in 
any other land. The public feeling is always against 
an exposition of losses and profits to tax-collectors. 
Indirect taxation has been generally adopted to avoid 
an over-curious examination into the progress or the 
retrogression of individuals in their temporal circum- 
stances. Therefore, any man may hold a forty -shilling 
freehold, or one of five hundred pounds nominally, and 
yet not be worth a shilling. The state cannot, or 
it should not take any cognisance of that matter; 
hut when property is specially alienated for a par- 
ticular claim, we see no reason why it should be 
used by the borrower for the acquisition of poli- 
tical rights. Any attempt to accomplish this 
purpose by reformers, hoinolagates abuses against 
which they protest. The property, qualification 
for Members of Parliament would have been ere 
now abolished, if its terms had been rigorously 
enforced. The opponents of such regulations will 
effect their abolition more certainly, by avoiding 
all evasions of their terms, and insisting that the 
latter shall be strictly fulfilled, than by taking part 
in clever plans for cutting holes in these statutes. 
All property qualifications for political purposes 
should be unencumbered. A faithful observance 
of this rule will sooner destroy the qualification, if 
it be unreasonable, than any opposition unaccom- 
panied by strict adherence to the law. A different 
course of warfare, a struggle of quirks and quibbles 
between parties cannot be followed by a valuable 
class of adherents to good measures. Conscientious 
persons will not willingly tread upon the edge of 
the law, but rather keep -firm footing within its 
boundaries. We therefore hold that the present 
and the extended qualifications should be free and 

unencumbered. Money deposits are quite as capa- 
ble of conferring an interest in the country, of esta- 
blishing a man's character for industry, intellect, 
and economy, of answering all the purposes of a 
political test, as investments in earth, or stones, or 
any heritable property. Deposits in savings' banks 
were mentioned previously as qualifications that 
should be accepted for this purpose. Deposits in any 
similar institution, althoughnot so likely to be offered, 
might be allowed without the slightest disadvantage 
to the State, or the subject. Purchasers of national 
securities might claim a similar privilege, and a 
better founded claim could not be presented. The 
objections to a direct qualification in money are 
almost entirely confined to the probability of fraud. 
Wealthy candidates might extinguish the political 
integrity of a constituency, or of so many electors 
amongst them, as would defeat and negative the 
honesty of their neighbours, according to one class, 
and that the most numerous class of objectors. 
This argument either means that men who could 
drawon their bankers fora hundred thousand pounds 
would, to gain an election, give qualifications to a 
thousand or fivehundred persons, who previously were 
non-electors; or that they would divide their capital 
into a large number of qualifications, as some men 
divide their estates, and permit dependants or fol- 
lowers to vote on those borrowed rights, on the 
condition that they voted for the lender or his 
nominee. The first supposition, that a candidate 
would make a free gift of the necessary hundred 
pounds is not likely to be often realised, and when 
it occurred, would not infringe that principle on 
which the qualification rests. The gift might be 
deemed a bribe ; but that is provided against or 
punished by a different act. The law against 
bribery is strict, and is more strictly enforced now 
than at a former period. Bribery ruled the Legisla- 
ture many years since. Members bribed the electors 
to get into Parliament, and were bribed in return 
to repay the cost of their elections, which, ulti- 
mately, were defrayed by the nation with com- 
pound interest. Tho practice is now of compa- 
ratively rare occurrence. Membecs of Parlia- 
ment get no direct return for their outlay ; 
and, we believe that the number of bribed electors 
is qJso comparatively few. The edge of this ob- 
jection is, however, blunted at once, by providing 
that the deposit qualification should duly arise on 
a deposit that had been made for twelve months, 
aud continue unimpaired so long only as the money 
was not touched. It is very improbable, we think, 
that rich men would bribe poorer individuals with 
the view of making them voters twelve months, 
sooner than they could exfcftise this privilege. Can- 
didates for parliamentary honours will not buy 
votes twelve months in advance. The suspicion 
that such conduct would be systematically pur- 
sued, is altogether absurd. 

The second supposition, that large capitalists 
might multiply their single vote by a thousand, 
by putting their money into a thousand divisions, 
in a thousand names, and retaining that form of 
investment for twelve months, in anticipation of 
an election, reflects the highest credit on the hon- 
esty and uprightness of the class of persons to be 



bribed, and assumes an extensive credulity and 
simplicity on the part of the tempter. The 
latter class of gentlemen do not pay for 
value to he received so long in advance; 
and if they were inclined to adopt that scheme, 
they could invest in freeholds, under the present 
law, far more readily .than under those extensions 
which we suggest. The clause requiring twelve 
months' possession, without the possibility of any 
check that would prevent the appropriation of 
the sum, in the way that tho apparent investor 
might deom most advisable for his own interest, 
will not supersede the possibility of fraud in a few 
isolated cases ; only because, wherever a property 
qualification exists, fraud is possible ; but it will 
render that crime extremely difficult, and confine 
its commission to those few instances where the 
buyer has remarkable confidence in the integrity 
of the persons purchased, or an unusual control 
over them and their actions. 

These objections may he, therefore, put aside, 
without the slightest remorse, except for the ne- 
cessarily severe nature of the check on evil-doing. 
Many parties may say that tho twelvemonths' pro- 
vision could be changed advantageously into one 
of six ; but no grounds of apprehension can be 
entertained for the vitiation of the roll by the in- 
sertion of names, supported only by a nominal qua- 
lification. The exact sum requisite in different 
classes of investment is fixed necessarily by the re- 
turns. Inquiry is not made into the price of a 
forty-shilling freehold, but into its present value. 
It may have cost the owner little or nothing. The 
law asks no questions on that point, and receives 
no erroneous answers. A money investment may 
be also judged by the test of income, not when ad- 
vanced to private parties who may pay nothing, 
but when in public stocks, of which the return is 
known. Another objection of an entirely different 
character may be urged. Money carefully secured 
is said thus to be withdrawn from tho economists' 
control. That argument is useless, however, for 
the fund remains constantly under his control. He 
may do with it as his convenience or his pleasure 
directs. Its withdrawal destroys the claim founded 
on itsexistence.butmeddles in no other waywith the 
man's right to use his own as he may find advis- 
able. The foundation of the right must exist 
twelve months before its use ; and after that period 
it can be employed on every recurring opportunity 
until the foundation be removed. Tho ground of 
the claim may be partially used by the claimant, 
without its entire removal ; and the law should 
offer no impediment to an operation of that nature. 
If the original sum bo impaired by one-fourth at 
any period, then that fourth will require to be 
made good three months before the renewed use of 
the capital for a political purpose. A proportion- 
ate term can be required for every other sum that 
may be drawn out of the original fund. A party 
requiring to use one-half of the fund would not vote 
on that qualification, until six months after the 
draft had been replaced. Another taking out three- 
fourths of its amount would vote only after the 
whole had been for nine months replaced. But it 
has been suggested that a temporary ^aft on a 

man's own property, for a short period, should not 
weaken his right to vote for a longer term than the 
time which the money had been out. This is 
another, and, as we believe, a more liberal interpre- 
tation of the matter. A hardship exists in saying 
that a man could not use some part of his own 
money for a few days without deprivation of the 
political right conferred by it for a term of many 
months. No franchise connected with property is 
destitute of possible and severe anomalies; but 
they might be guarded against in this instance by 
a provision for casual drafts of the nature inferred. 
If it be understood that such investments are not 
in tho nature of a deposit account, but must bear a 
permanent character, the hardship supposed is con- 
siderably alleviated and may be entirely, removed 
by a separate rule, applicable to curtailments of 
the original fond; occurring, not systematically, 
but incidentally, and extending only over a short 

Our province does not involve the arrangement 
of overy possible detail, but merely a statement of 
the rough outlines comprised in a scheme of this 
nature. We do not legislate, but only suggest a 
probable topic of legislation ; especially as we are 
not dealing with a perfoct system, but a possible 
compromise of a question that has, we are informed, 
in common with the public, agitated the Cabinet, 
although, most probably, to little purpose. One 
sentence comprises the spirit of this scheme; for it 
consists, as already stated, in the extension of the 
forty-shilling freehold franchise of England to Scot- 
land and Ireland ; along with the enlargement of 
that qualification to property of the same value, or 
producing the same annual return, in any other 
form whatever, unconnected with the particular 
business in which the claimant may be engaged. 

The second suggestion offered in preceding papers 
is more important than the first. The conjunction 
of political rights to a policy of L'ife Assurance 
would facilitate their acquisition without any cost 
or loss to the claimant or his family. The right 
oould not immediately follow the issue of the policy; 
for in that case insurances might be effected at 
periods of excitement merely to obtain votes by 
zealous and unenfranchised politicians: It could 
not be attached to policies of any amount, for one 
of twenty pounds would not afford to a young man 
a perceptible interest in the security of public pro- 
perty. It should be arranged, if possible, to follow 
upon pplicies under peculiar conditions in present 
practice ; but conditions that may be rendered 
universal. Policies may be issued on a conditional 
assurance of life. The premiums may be made to 
cease at a given date, and the amount for which 
the policy is issued may be payable at death, or at 
a specified period during the insurer's life. 

We would suggest that the right to vote should 
be obtained on a policy that had existed seven 
years for £100, or four years for £200, issued con- 
ditionally, in the case of policies entered into after 
tho adoption of the law, on the payment of the 
sura named in the deed, to the heirs of the policy- 
holder on bis death, or to himself on the comple- 
tion of his sixtieth year. This arrangement would 
bring in gradually a large number of voters on 

Digitized by 




whom it would confer an immense benefit. The 
forfeiture of policies immediately on the non-pay- 
ment of premiums at the dates specified, should be 
in these cases relaxed, by allowing the insurers 
who hare for a number of years made regular pay- 
ment of their premiums, and may, from incidental 
circumstances, require that accommodation. The 
fear of being unable to meet periodical payments 
of this nature, extending over the whole period of 
Hfe, prevents many persons from taking out poli- 
cies of life insurance, and must continue effectually 
to prevent the increase of this beneficial custom 
amongst the working classes. The necessity of 
some plan by which this difficulty might be over- 
come, is obvious. The Government sells annuities, 
and might very readily sell life policies. For one 
present payment it makes many small future pay- 
ments, and for many small payments it might 
agree to make one large future payment. Rules 
might be adopted in a government institution, tbat 
would greatly obviate the necessity of forfeitures 
on the one hand, or the inconvenience of irregular 
payments on the other. Even the conjunction of 
an elective qualification to a life policy would 
sharpen payments, because, whenever an election 
«#ame on, a voter in arrears of premium would be 
silenced, as a voter in arrears of certain taxes is now 
temporarily disfranchised ; for it is in the nature 
of this qualification, that with the policy the holder 
must also present the receipt for the last payment 
of premium, then due. Private enterprise might 
accomplish all of the objects that we have in view. 
The formation and the correct working of societies 
that would not, after the payment of seven or of 
ten years' premium, forfeit a policy because the 
holder was two or even three months behind time 
with tho eighth or the eleventh premium, could be 
well and wisely done by private enterprise. The 
only sacrifioe made by the insurers is, the unhappy 
gain derived often from calamity or poverty. 

Few members of mutual insurance societies 
would not rather want the hope of a bonus than 
expect it from the poverty of former partners. We 
believe, therefore, that a more indulgent rule than 
that generally existing now would be adopted, if 
its necessity were fully understood. Difficulties of 
a physical character exist in effecting insurances 
in heavy cases. The health of many persons is 
from their infancy in suspicious circumstances. 
'Medical men consider their lives an unfair risk, 
and reject their applications for insurance. The 
number of rejected proposals must be great; for 
in the report of one society we find the number of 
applications within a limited period stated at 1,140, 
in which there resulted 407 rejections, and 673 ad- 
missions. Provision is not easily made for the 
former class, amounting in this instance to more 
than one-third of the entire number; but even they 
are not hopeless. Societies exist for the assurance 
of diseased lives — indeed, we believe many of the 
ordinary societies take these assurances at a pro- 
portionately higher rate than the terms of 
their published tables ; and the nation might 
not make any loss by assuring the lives of all 
its male adult subjects for a fixed sum, not 
.large enough to interfere with the operations of 
vol. xvn. — HO. CXOTT. 

private societies, or to be the subject of speculation, 
unless to those persons who can be tempted to sin 
by the payment from a funeral fund; but suffi- 
ciently large to prevent- many of the applications 
now made to the poor's rates. 

It is obvious that facilities not now existing should 
be afforded; and that obstacles now operating most 
prejudicially should be removed; for we find in tha 
reports of some of the new societies, lapsed policies 
spoken of in a tone of satisfaction that much re- 
sembles prosperity chuckling over adversity. One 
body of directors mention that all the claims upon 
them have been covered by the value of the lapsed 
policies; while others make similar statements. 

It is altogether a question of money. More 
money would meet the objection; and higher rates, 
we believe, would be cheerfully paid, in many in- 
stances, as an assurance against the risk of insur- 
ance itself. 

The extension of the forty-shilling franchise from 
England to Ireland and Scotland, is a measure so 
evidently just, that while many persons might en- 
deavour to delay its progress, or its immediate 
realization, yet few — certainly very few — would 
venture to oppose its ultimate adoption. We mean, 
undoubtedly, forty shillings' worth of land, andnot 
such miserable make-believes of qualifications a* 
have been in past times known to exist in Ireland, 
with little benefit to the public, and less still to the 

Next, .we insist upon the employment of the 
capital necessary to furnish an income of forty 
shillings in any other investment besides land af- 
fording the same privileges, unless the money be used 
directly for the purposes of the claimant's immediate 
business. Stock-in-trade, the tools of an artisan, 
the library of a professional man, the household 
furniture of any man, would all be deemed inade- 
quate qualifications, and any other property of the 
same class would be subject to a similar exclusion. 
On the other hand, house property qualifies under 
the present law, and should qualify hereafter, not 
merely in counties, but in burghs also, that thus 
the members of building societies — a most deserv- 
ing class, who are endeavouring to rear a home for 
themselves, and to fix their abode in a locality- 
might turn their industry to a political account, 
and derive from their politics an inducement to 

The qualifying power of capital, or, in this in- 
stance, of saving:, should extend, as has already 
been fully stated, to money invested in the funds — 
to money lodged in a bank — to money advanced 
on the mortgage of heritable property ; and we 
see no reason why, with proper precaution, money 
advanced on railway debentures and shares, in 
many public companies, should not possess the 
power to qualify — except this reason, that so few 
persons are likely to seek a qualification on this 
kind of investment, that the trouble of making tha 
arrangements would be taken without, we expect, 
any result, for the working classes could not be 
advised to use this olass of securities at present ; 
and those who can use them with propriety, hold 
other qualifications eligible under the existing law. 

The rule to ascertain the value for a forty-shilling 



freehold, in Mfy'othef manner of investment, is sim- 
ple. We have only to take the income. A hun- 
dred pound bond in the national funds is more than 
sufficient. It gives all that is required, and one- 
third more. A deposit of seventy-fire pounds in a 
savings bank would probably always yield an in- 
come of two pounds, and, therefore, would always 
be sufficient. The interest in a building society that 
yields three pounds, must oover the qualification 
after allowing one*third for tear and wear, repairs 
and deterioration. Aoottage that in England would 
rent for four pounds above the annual rent eharge 
oft the ground; or part of a house in Scotland, that 
would bring the same money after meeting the same 
condition, would qualify and allow, as it might be 
necessary to take five per cent, on the capital, or 
one-half of the rental, for a sinking fund to meet 
the current disbursements for repairs, and the 
steady depreciation of the property in value. A 
larger allowance is, we believe, requisite under tbiB 
head for the thin brick houses of England than for 
the stone buildings common in Scotland, but the 
difference does not require any nioe distinction in 
* ease of this nature. 

Then, the amelioration of a qualifying privilege 
to life assurance polieies simplifies the transaction 
In numerous oases. Reference has been already 
made to the necessity for more liberal provisions, 
In respect to the terms on which these documents 
are issued by the greater part of the societies 
formed for life assurance. Amendments of that 
nature are requisite altogether, irrespective of this 
proposal, and their adoption would produce very 
favourable results on sooiety. A policy of £100, 
on whioh the premium had been paid for seven 
years, or £200, on which payment had been made 
for four years, appears to ns a fair qualification. 

The selling value of the policy would be a small 
matter with only these payments made. The 
article wonld not readily sell for anything in the 
public market unless the insured were in the pre- 
dicament of some unfortunate holders of benefices 
in England, who, wrapped in flannels, and shiver- 
ing In a huge-backed arm-chair by the fire in 
Jnly, may read, by the aid of spectacles, a brief 
and graphic sketch of their personal maladies, 
coloured and exaggerated by a desire to repre- 
sent their chance of life as very short, and 
themselves as already in the grave to the neck. 
Unless the insured were in some such position as 
that, the policy wonld not sell, but It might be 
taken up by the issuers. Still, the insured havo 
established an interest in the welfare of the country 
which they desire to be permanent; and the exten- 
sion of the practice is so desirable, that every 
facility and encouragement should be given to its 
general adoption. 

The difficulties of this latter franchise are few. 
A young man of eighteen may, by paying nine- 
pence to tenpence weekly, begin to secure a provi- 
sion for his relatives, or for himself at an advanced 
period of life, and find himself an elector at twenty- 
live. If his circumstances promise to be good, he 
can, by doubling the sacrifice, halve the time, and 
get upon the register at twenty-two. 

The time occupied in preparing a qualification, 
by Investment, would not be very tedious to an 

artisan, who had escaped honourably from his ap- 
prenticeship. In a good business, with steady 
employment, he might succeed in saving four shil- 
lings weekly — ten pounds annually — whioh would 
do the work in six, or, at farthest, in seven years. 
The plan may be theoretically objectionable, as we 
have said, to extreme parties, but to others its 
practical advantages may appear to outweigh 
this difficulty. These advantages are — First, 
the removal of doubts and fears lurking in di- 
verse honest and upright minds— minds of a 
generous and straightforward character — regard- 
ing the manner in which political rights might be 
exercised. Second, a gradual but not slow in- 
crease of the constituent body, which could scarcely 
rnffle the fears of the most timid, and would look 
like anything rather than a revolution; while, in 
our opinion, and in the view of many individuals, 
it would consolidate the State, and render society 
more contented, if not more prosperous; and the 
calming down of agitation in a manner satisfactory 
to all parties, is a good and desirable object. Third, 
a great increase in the nnmber of small capitalists 
— and of, therefore, independent families — an ad- 
vantage to any country that can scarcely be over- 
estimated; for it leads in its way, and not an indi- 
rect Way, to the advancement of morals, eduoation, 
and intelligence, fosters a spirit of self-reliance, 
and cuts at the root of pauperism and poor-rates. 
Fourth, the nurturing of an interest in the country, 
and its prosperity, that is highly useful for those at 
least who are to guide its affairs through their repre- 
sentatives. Fifth, security to financial reformers 
that their plans would be stringently pursued; for 
men who have been economical in their own habits, 
and have no interest in the State following any 
other oourse, will naturally direct their representa- 
tives to pursue a rigid economy in all departments. 

The number of persons who would be immediately 
enfranchised by this scheme would not be so great 
as many reformers might desire, but it would be 
greater than by the present forty shillings free- 
holds, which are disadvantageous investments for 
numerous classes of tradesmen ; it wonld doable that 
number at once, and far more rapidly swell the roll 
hereafter, until, seven years hence, not all deserving 
men, but a majority of the number would be electors. 

Wo havo now fully explained the views enter- 
tained by us, of the grounds on whioh a compromise 
might be accomplished; not to injure any other 
movement, but to accelerate the end that allolaasea 
of franchise reformers profess to seek We have 
done so, in our own opinion, without expres- 
sing an approval of this plan as a perfect scheme, 
and one against which very reasonable objec- 
tions may not be taken. No interference can 
be volunteered between parties in disputes of 
this nature without inourring the risk of miscon- 
ception. "We have experienced the common fate 
in some instances, but we havo been gratified to 
find that generally the rough sketch which we have 
submitted has been considered practicable — not 
unjust, and not impolitic. We leave the topic now. 
in the hope that, if it please not Parliament and 
the Queen's Ministers to oiler something worthy 
of acceptance, when their hands are in the work, 
this projector a better scheme, may make progress. 




Cebtaix recent additions (I caunot call them accessions) 
to our current literature, shew that the principles of ra- 
tionalism, which seemed indigenous to Germany, are mak- 
ing some progress in oar own country. These principles 
number among their supporters many great names, and 
are presented under such a faiainating garb of philosophy 
and eloquence, as to blind the inexperienced mind to their 
insidious and pernicious tendencies. No devout believer 
in the divinity of Christianity can look with unconcern on 
the growth of a philosophy whose real, though disguised 
pnrpose, is to explain away and render nugatory that 
Divine Faith. I am none of those who underrate genius 
because it belongs not to my creed. Genius levels all dis- 
tinctions. Many of the rationalist writers possess powers 
of the highest order, but, in me, deserved admiration of 
these powers only excites equally deserved regret for their 
perversion. Admitting this, however, it cannot be gain- 
said that there is an utter want of definiteness and sys- 
tem about their philosophy, which, while it unsettles every- 
thing, settles nothing. Man's soul has been sheltered and 
cheered for more than eighteen centuries within the hal- 
lowed stronghold of the Christian faith — from that strong- 
hold the rationalist seeks to drive it forth into a bleak and 
trackless wilderness of doubt — to destroy that tower of 
strength ; and yet he offers no worthy mansion (but only 
a visionary moonlight shadow of a house) for the mighty 
wanderer's reception. Vaguo and dreamy speculations 
can never be the ruler of man's conduct. A straggling 
river, until directed into a proper channel, will not set in 
motion the merest water-wheel, with any useful result, 
and neither will vague and visionary thoughts, however 
fascinating and seemingly profound, profitably influence 
human conduct, till brought to bear on aoeioty in some 
systematised and defined form. 

According to my humble ability, I have, in the follow- 
ing poem, spoken out against this latitadinariau philoso- 
phy. In the introductory verses I have referred to a 
widely felt and widely deplored fact, that the preaching of 
Christianity is not, in many eases, what it should be. It 
cannot be doubted that the routine and lifelcssuess which 
the defrauded soul too often experiences in pulpit minis- 
trations, indirectly helps the growth of rationalism ; and 
its threatening increase only calls the louder for a deeper 
and more earnest enunciation of the Truth. The "good men 
and true," (and, thank ITeaven, there are many such) who 
labour with self-denying devotion and earnestness in their 
high calling, canndt feel offended at these strictures, while 
language too energetic cannot be employed to rouse the 
more apathetic to the duties and dangers of the age. 

" Bat foremost of all studies, let me not 
1'orget to bid thee learn Christ's faith by heart, 
Study its truths, and practice its behests ; 
They are the purest, sweetest, peacefullest 
Of all immortal reasons or records : 
They will be with thee When all else havj pone. 
Mind, body, passion, ail wear out — not faith, 
Nor Truth." 


for ever on the sea of life, 

Tbo' dulled by passion and by tin, 
Witt rise above aU storm and strife 

The ttiUamaUvoiae within; 

And whisper of the land of test, 
Prophetic faith's immortal goal— 

The green spot of the desert breast — 
The loadstar of the soul. 

• * * * • 

Careworn and trouble- tried, I taught 
The solemn, sacred house of prayer, 

Whence sound those words of lore aail hope, 
That cheer a world's despair. 

My thirsting spirit longed to drink 
The fervid look, the impassioned to**. 

That mark the speaker's earnest faith, 
And make men's soul's his own. 

And, oh, if eloquence divine 

Ere touched the lips with living In, 

That story of triumphant woe 
Might coldest heart inspire. 

The record Of a tsith sublime 

Which burning seraphs love to scaa, 
Might well arouse deep, thrills of joy 

In fallen, feeble man. 

''e preacher came — his words awoke) 
No answering echo in the soul ; 
cold, so weak, so passionless, 
They from that preacher stole. 

It seemed as if the Book of Life 

Lay dead before a soulless form ; 
Dry bones around— no strong breath sfme 

Their lifelessness to warm. 

The Book was closed — with willing haste 
The preacher sought the welcomo door ; 

As if, like me, he was well pleased 
The lauguid toil was o'er. 

With downcast soul I turned away, 
No consolation had been given ; 

The longing spirit, dark and cold, 
Had drawn uo Are from Heaven. 

What wonder if the aeoffor scoffs, 
Aud faith by sceptics be disdained, 

If thus, before a wondering world. 
They see God's house profaned P 

I know, with joy, the church hath men, 
In their high calling stern and true, 

Such as make good men grieved to think 
Thai honoured band so few. 

For never did her altars claim 
A stronger light, or holier seal, 

To fight for mankind's dearest hopes, 
A world's eternal weaL 

0 fbt brave Luther's voice, to route 
A slumbering faith to life again ; 

t)oubt, death, and earnestness proclaim 
That men must speak like men. 

High intellects and willing hearts, 
Scorning what wiser faith reveres, 

Would crush the stronghold of man's hopes, 
The refuge from his fears. 

8ee chief among faith's banded foes. 
The mighty dreamland of the mind,* 

Proving, by theory, the world 
Hath left Christ's laws behind. 

Forth from that ancient eloudland pour 
Bark showers of baleful poison-rain, 

To drench men's souls with doubt, and make 
The Christian's glory vain. 

Germany. * 



Even on the soil where Lather fought 
Faith's glorious fight, and triumph won, 

Rise up degenerate souls to crush 
What his great heart hath done. 

Think not, tho' persecution's form 
Hath vanished from our native land, 

faith's fortress fronts no suhtler foe, 
No deadlier to withstand. 

Not the fierce tempest in its might 

Spreads wide such wreck and overthrow 

As the dark pestilence that steals 
Along its path of woe. 

Fot in those dark and storm-tossed days, 

When Freedom, Faith, were soiled and riven, 

Each faggot pile that flamed for truth, 
Lighted men's souls to Heaven. 

But Error, with presumptuous mion, 
Deserts the path our fathers trod, 

Bids man place faith beneath her power, 
And little trust in God. 

Tho' Reason's lamp may flicker through 

Life's little day of toil and gloom, 
Oh, can it light man's weary soul 
To realms beyond the tomb P ' 

No ! Nature in a thousand forms 
Leaves Reason helpless as a child ; 

Baffles the boasted power by which 
Heaven's mysteries are reviled. 

The time for apathy hath passed, 
When proud Philosophy's high name 

Gilds the deep thoughts of men that seek 
To put our faith to shame. 

When even the poet's hallowed hand 
Strikes to the theme his raptured lyre, 

To clothe with majesty and light 
The scoffer's vain desire. 

Up, then, ye guardians of the Cross I 
To man the power of Faith reveal, 

Nor think a brother's soul to firs 
With what thine may not feel. 

Arouse to earnestness and life — 

Let scoffers scoff, and sceptics jeer ; 
An earnest spirit strong for truth, 
* Even ecorners still revere. 

And, standing on the Rock of Faith, 
Let words be theirs, let deeds be thine ; 

For not by words the Son of Man 
Did prove his life divine. 

Still, earnestness I Each living chord 
Doth vibrate to that iron string — 

Heart-work alone, to struggling souls, 
A Sabbath-calm can bring. 

Fear not for Faith — tho' o'er the world 
Doubt's dreary deluge seems to fall — 

The ark of man's immortal hopes, 
Shall triumph over all ! 

For Reason, Science, yet shall throw 

Their conquered kingdoms meekly down ; 

Twin-gems, to deck, like radiant stars, 
Faith's universal crown ! 

W. T. R- 

Glasgow, December, 1S40. 



Have more of earth, or more of Heaven abov e; 

More cruel still, or still more lovely be ; 
I cannot hate ; alas ! I dare not love, 

I cannot live without, far less with thee. 

To the Governor for complaining of the degeneration 
of Students. 

We all ought to be flayed or hung, 

The students are such flunkies ; 
Monboddo thought from apes we sprung, 

Ton say, we're growing monkeys. 

Translation from the Latin of Dr. Johnson. 
Vita omnia scena est ludnsque ; ant radere disce, 
Seria seponens, ant mala dura pati. 

All life's a fare*, all human things a play ; 
Be mad with them, or else more sad than they. 

(From the Latin of Warton.) 
Oh, gentle sleep ! thy influence give, 

And though like death, draw nigh ; 
Living, behold we do not live, 

And without dying, die. 


(From the Greek.) 
No more, no more, delight the scenes of Time; 

Hope, and thon. Fortune, take my last farewell; 
My spirit soars unto a nobler clime; 

Ye've haunted me, but now with others dwell. 


(From the Greek of Archias.) 
When first the infant draws its breath, 

The Thracian mother weeps ; 
But when its eyelids close in death, 

High the glad music sweeps. 
Oh, deed well done I for life has every ill ; 
Death, the kind angel, bids them all he still. 

Cms UwiviasiTiiia Glabguxhsm. 


I stood within the mighty Abbey's wall, 

The sunbeams glimmered through the oriel pane, 

And lit with crown of light tho statues tall, 
Then quivered on the monuments again ; 

And low sweet music floated o'er the tombs, 
' And died amid the chapel's long-drawn aiales ; 

Methonght e'en so the hope of Heaven illumes 

And lights up sorrow's face with brightening smile*, 

That those whose mighty ashes lie helow, 

Kings of the earth, and knights of high degree. 

Those of the daring front and laurelled brow, 

Should burst their bonds, when Heaven and earth shall 

As the Archangel's trump shall rouse the dead, [flee, 
•Midst purer light than sunbeams ever shed. 

Cms UmYMssmiis Gmsotjisbis. 



Buikop Bind*' Church History. Griffin : London and 

The volume now under notice is a part of the Encyclope- 
dia Metropolitana, containing the first division of the His- 
tory of the Christian Church ; in other words, the Bise and 
Early Progress of Christianity — from a.d. 1, to a.d. 167 
— by Dr. Hinds, Bishop of Norwich, to which is added 
the correspondence between Pliny and the Emperor Tra- 
jan, respecting the Early Christians, and a Dissertation 
on Miracles, in which the miracles of Scripture are con- 
trasted with the spnrions miracles said to have been per- 
formed by Apollonins or Tyana. 

Dr Hinds has divided his subject into three parts, 
embracing the three great stages in the establishment of 
Christianity, viz. : The Ministry of Christ ; The Apos- 
tolic Age, and the Age of the Apostolic Fathers ; and 
the volume opens with an interesting introductory account 
of the religion of the Gentiles, the Jews, and tho Samari- 
tans, in which much valuable information is contained. 
Ascribing, and we think rightly, all religions, whether 
true or false, to one common origin — the knowledge of a 
true God, or Supreme Being ; and dating the first great 
era in the history of idolatry to the building of the tower 
of Babel ; the author proceeds to trace its progress, and 
to support his proposition, by a chain of brief, but incon- 
trovertible arguments and reasonable conclusions. He 
does not deny the " tendency or the capacity of mankind 
to create a system of religion for themselves," but he 
holds that it may be " fairly assumed that no period has 
yet occurred, which has afforded an opportunity for the 
experiment." And he considers as certain that the 
" ancient heathen creeds could not have been originally 
the mere invention of fancy, or the independent deduc- 
tions of reason, but rather tho corruption," or, as he more 
emphatically, and, as we think, more correctly expresses 
it in another place, the pervenion of " revealed religion." 
In support of this opinion, which we unhesitatingly adopt, 
it may be stated, that, at the dispersion of mankind, after 
their presumptuous attempt to build " a tower whose top 
was to the heavens," as it is literally expressed in 
Scripture ; they carried with them a certain portion of 
revelation, which, however much it might be neglected, 
would not be easily or soon effaced. But religion once 
corrupted, soon becomes utterly depraved ; and such be- 
ing the cose at the period referred to, the worship of 
Jehovah would rapidly be lost in the rise and progress of 
idolatry in the Gentile world. Amid this mass of idolatry 
which overspread the whole world, were the Jews — God's 
chosen people — the living monuments of the truth of his 
revealed word. After briefly describing the allegorical 
nature of the religion of the Jews, its objects, and the 
causes which led to their misinterpretation of it — the 
author informs us that " as early as the Babylonian cap- 
tivity, some settlement of the Jens in Egypt appears to 
have been formed ;" or at all events, from the foundation 
of Alexandria they began to be established there in great 
numbers" — being allowed by the illustrious founder of 
that city " a share of privileges in common with his Mace- 
donian colonists, and the free exercise of their religion," 
a liberality of policy which was continued towards them 
by his successors, A* tho author remarks, there seems 


to have been "a fatality in the connexion of the Jews with 
Egypt ; and when it ceased to "be a scourge, it became a 
snare to them." The liberal policy pursued towards them 
there certainly seduced them into a grievous error. They 
had been directly commanded by God to perform their 
temple worship at the one place which He had appointed. 
Yet in violation of this express law, they sought and ob- 
tairiedpermissionto build a temple for themselves in Egypt, 
in order to avoid the inconvenience of an annual resort to 
Jerusalem. After this bold violation of God's command, and 
fatal departure from the path in which they had been directed 
to walk, it is not surprising to learn that they " began to 
imbibe many of the absurd fancies of the heathen philoso- 
phy, so much cultivated at that time at Alexandria, and 
blended it iu their view of their own sacred doctrines ;" 
for those who could venture upon so bold a violation: of 
God's law, as the erection of a separate temple in Egypt, 
to save themselves the trouble and expense of a journey 
to Jerusalem once a year, would be very unlikely long to 
resist the powerful seductions of so convenient a school as 
the Platonic. It does not appear that the Jewish creed 
was generally materially affected by what occurred in, 
Egypt, Yet the intercourse between Jews and Gentiles, 
which, as the period of the advent approached,- became 
general, could not fail to be productive of mischief to the 
former ; and so universal was this interspersion of Jews 
with Gentiles, as almost to justify, in the author's opinion, 
"a literal acceptation of St. James's assertion, that 
Moses had in every city them that preached him." Dr. 
Hinds infers, and with much likelihood of truth, that this 
comiugling of Jews and Gentiles may have been per- 
mitted by God in order to afford to both " an opportunity 
of acquiring more preparatory light than either enjoyed, 
for the glorious scene that was approaching." But we 
must pass on to a brief notice of the religion of the Sama- 
ritans, which, though they " claimed for themselves all 
the privileges of the Mosaic covenant," cannot be identi- 
fied either with that of the Jews or the Gentiles. It 
may be said to have partaken of the character of both, 
and yet to be distinct from either. And this peculiarity 
was perhaps the natural result of the origin of their faith. 
After the carrying away of the ten tribes into captivity by 
the Ring of Assyria, it appears that Samaria was repeopled 
by colonists drawn from various parts of the Assyrian 
dominions ; and it appears, also, that the country be- 
came infested with wild beasts. The colonists imagining 
that the God of Israel had, in his anger, sent them, 
one of the captive priests was sent from Assyria to 
"teach them how to fear the Lord.'' Hence a know- 
ledge of Jehovah was introduced, and wonld naturally 
take root among them, and become mixed up with their 
idolatrous notions — so that religion with them would 
necessarily assume a " somewhat different character from 
that under which it has appeared either in the Jewish or 
the Gentile world.'' And with truth does Dr. Hinds con- 
cisely remark, that, religion "with the Jews, was revelation 
neglected — with the Gentiles, revelation perverted — and 
with the Samaritans, revelation corrupted." Yet, cor 
rupted as may have been their religion, the true faith 
seems to have gained ground among them, for at a sub- 
sequent period they endeavoured to affect a union « with. 



the Jews, so as to form one people. 1 ' Sat Ming in this 
they erected ior themselves an independent temple on 
Mount Gerizira, with a view to the more orderly observ- 
ance of what they considered to be the pore Mosaic law — 
for be it remembered, one. of their leading heresies was the 
rejection of all Scripture save the Pentateuch, or the 
writings of Moses. And it must not be forgotten that it 
was to them, and not to the Jews, that the Messiah con- 
descended to declare himself in express terms. Because 
It affords a proof, that, " whatever were the deficiencies 
or the mistakes of the Samaritan creed," their views of 
at coming Messiah were more correct than those of their 
rivals the Jews. They held, in contradistinction from the 
Jews, that Christ's coming was to be a blessing to all 
nations ; and it was doubtless owing to " this essential 
feature of their expectation" that the Messiah vouchsafed 
to give them a more explicit avowal of himself than he 
had given to the Jews. 

With the views of Dr. Hinds on these points we en- 
tirely coincide ; and we have dwelt upon this portion of 
the volume, not at greater length than it merits, for it is 
replete with interest, and suggestive of mnch thai is 
valuable for reflection ; bat at greater length than what 
is in strict justice due to the volume before us, the intro- 
duction to which we have as yet only noticed. Nor will 
ear space permit as at present to enter upon a lengthened 
review of die work. Suffice it, therefore, for the present 
to say, that as a Church History, it will be found faith- 
fully correct, replete with learned criticism, and, from the 
systematic nature of its arrangement, to comprise a much 
greater amount and variety of information than is to be 
met with in similar works of greater extent, while the 
ktyle is. at once perspicuous and pleasing. Doubtless, 
there are many readers who will not be disposed to acqui- 
esce in some of the views of the Bight Eev. Lord with re- 
gard to church government, &c. But we opine, that, 
with no liberal and enlightened mind — liberal because 
enlightened— will the author's views on these points be 
considered as any detraction from the merits of his work 
as a Church History. And we venture to affirm that no 
« ach mind will rise from the perusal of the volume with, 
out the consciousness, that whenever it has been necessary 
to Introduce controverted points, his Lordship has done 
so with a modesty and liberality, which, while it argues 
the sincerity of his own views, mnst gain for him the 
favourable opinion of those to whom be is opposed. 
And we can confidently recommend the work to all who 
desire to possess a lucid, well arranged, and concise, yet 
comprehensive history not of the church only, but of the 
rise and progress of religion and infidelity, from the first 
great era in the history of the latter. 

fsKflUn of TOescsay. 2 vols. Pnlettivu on BuUtn" 
"AwUgy," Pulty'i u £mdtme$ c/ Christianity," matt 
JSill'i "Leetmres «• DwimHy." 1 vol. By the late 
Thomas Chalmers, D.D., LLJ>. Edinburgh : Suther- 
land * Kaox. 

Ill these volumes we have their illustrious author brought 
before as in his character of Professor of Divinity. The 
isld travelled over is, of coarse, very wide, as will appear 
from the following brief statement of their contents: — 
VoL I. General and Introductory, three chapters ; Natu- 
*al Theology, three chapters ; Christian Evidences, ten 
ohapteri ; Sol^ot-matter of Christianity— Part L On the 

Disease for which the Gospel Remedy u provided, eight 
chapters. Vol. II. Part II. On the Nature of the Gospel 
Remedy, thirteen chapters; Part ILL On the Extent of 
the Gospel Remedy, seven chapters ; Supplementary Leo 
tures, six chapters. Vol. Ill, Introductory Lectures ; 
Lectures on Butler's "Analogy;" Lectures on Foley's 
" Evidences of Christianity ;" Notes on Hill's " Lectures 
in Divinity;" Opening Addresses delivered as Principal 
of the New College, Edinburgh. 

Like many more, we anxiously looked for the publica- 
tion of these treatises, and now that we have enjoyed the 
privilege of a careful perusal of them, we must say that 
onr expectations, high though they were, have been folly 
realised, and our admiration and esteem for the celebrated 
author, if it were possible, still increased. The varied 
striking qualifications and pre-eminent endowments which 
made him shine so conspicuously in other departments, 
and rendered him the first of living preachers, these, 
we cannot fail to perceive, Dr. Chalmers carried with him, 
and turned to the best aceonnt, when transferred from the 
office of an instructor of the people to that of a teacher in 
one of the schools of the prophets — when he exchanged 
the pnlpit for the professor's chair. More than this, in 
the way of commendation, it is impassible to say, and no 
more Is necessary to indicate how precious a legacy has 
been bequeathed to the church, and what an invaluable 
service has been rendered to the cause of truth, by the 
publication of these treatises. 

The subjoined extracts will help to show the correct- 
ness of the preceding statements. 

Dr. Chalmers was quite a practical man; the question 
with him regarding any thing was — of what use will it 
be — will it benefit the world t and not— is it Imposing 
and grand t or,— does it display great cleverness and 
scholarship f This invaluable characteristic be possessed 
to the end. We see it manifested in the very plan he 
adopted for instructing the students — not only delivering 
lectures of bis own, but also conducting examinations from 
such text-books as Butler's Analogy, Foley's Evidences, 
Sue, We see the same evinced In the arrangement of his 
Theological Course, beginning with the more simple sub- 
jects and those lying nearest us, and advancing to those 
more abstruse and farther remote, thus adopting a mode 
of arrangement different from that generally followed in 
oilier systems of Divinity, bnt, in our opinion, preferable 
to the old one. The same love for the useful appears in 
the following advice : — 

" It does sot follow that beams* the theoretical exposition of 
this doctrine (Predestination) comes suitably frqm the academic 
chair, H is equally suitable for the pnlpit Now, I have ever 
thought that there should be the utmost delicacy sad reserve ia 
the introduction of it ; the proper business of iUmiaiatratioos bo* 
ing to ply men with the proximate and contiguous inducements 
for entering upon, or persevering in, a religious course, or to urge 
them on to that practical movement by which they ton from 
sin unto righteousness. It is a doctrine in met which has lew to 
do with the outset of the Christian course, than with the pragma 
or the close of it ; and it certainly serves at times to thiok«n 
those initial perplexities which beset the path of an inquirer. It 
is not with the decree that is behind him — it is not with the des- 
tiny that is before him, that the man who meditates an entrance 
on that career which leads to a bhtaful eternity, has property to 
do. It is with the work of the day and the warfare of the day- 
ilia with the prayers and performances of hi* current history — it is 
with the offers ofpardonand the calls of penitence — it is with the 
dinger of his irreligious course and the urgencies of his instant 
reformation — these it is the part ef every sinister to ply apoa 
Uapaoplsi •adwaikhepoTOforthsfhi.t^waad mmntf 


treenthem— tiui (kwbiM, U the my BMMit that it is « 
pliied, m»j not be recognised." 

We bars often heard of the striking effect* produced 
by the delivery of the author' • lectures on thoee who at 
tended the Hall ; and we wonder not that they should 
have been warmed, when called on to lieten to such eloquent 
passages as the one we subjoin ; and yet it is only a para- 
phrase of a passage delivered many years before in a sermon 
to a country congregat ion :— - 

"Whea crossed in the basinets of life, we have heard men 
taking comfort that it will he all the tame a hundred years 
after this — a goad reason why they should rit loose to this 
world's interests, hat tartly a better reason why they should 
forthwith enter on a busy preparation for the world which pas- 
seth not away. A handred years after this 1 With what speed and 
whs* certainty will these handred years srrWs at their termina- 
tion! This day will draw to a close, and a number of days 
makes np one revolution of the seasons. Year follows after 
year, and a number of years nukes up a century. These little 
intervals of time accumulate and 411 up that mighty space which 
appeals to the eye of the fancy so big and so immeasurable. 
The handred years will come, and they will carry along with 
them the wrack of whole generations. Every living thing that 
now moves on the face of the earth will disappear from it. The 
infant that now hangs on its mother's bosom will only live in 
the remembrance of his grandchildren. The scene of life and 
intelligence before you will be changed into the dark and loath 
some forms of corruption. The people who hear you will cease 
to be spoken of; their memory will perish from the face of the 
ennntry ; their fiesh will be devoured by worms , the dark and 
creeping things which live in the holes of the earth will feed 
upon their bodies : their cofins will have mouldered away, and 
their bones be thrown np in loose and scattered fragments 
among the earth of the new-made grave.'* 

Though a giant in attainments, and towering above 
most of his fellow-men, yet he had the modesty and humi- 
lity of a little child. How delightful it is to And this 
lovely feature in full operation in the academic chair, and 
the entire absence of all pedantry and pride of learning : 

"It delights me to tad that all of Scripture troth which is 
•f effect to medicate and enlarge the soul, or make it meet for 
Heaven, Eke any of the sheep or common bounties of nature, is 
accessible to every one ; not monopolized, as an unfeeling 
pedantry would have it, by a select few, who hold exclusive 
possession of the only cipher which unlocks the treasures of 
revelation ; but brought — by the help, net of a rare and difficult, 
bat of a very ordinary and every day scholarship— brought 
within the ken of the humblest of oar common people. 
There are depths and recesses in Scripture criticism which have 
only been explored by linguists sod philologists of the first order ; 
sad the biblical curiosities which they have fetched up are 
worthy of a place in the cabinet of the stadent, or in what may 
be termed the museums of theology. I say nothing to intercept 
or to mar this enjoyment; and so far from discouraging the 
Uboars of these collectors, I trust they will persevere till every 
conquerable difficulty shall be unriddled, and so long as any 
farther approximation can be made to the immaculate edition 
that will form a perfect exemplar of the words, to the faultless, 
the unexceptionable version that will form as perfect an exemplar 
of the mind and meaning of the Bible. Sot with all the com- 
placency I feel in the progress of these lucubrations, I confess 
» thousandfold higher complacency in the cheering thought 
that, through the medium of the English version as it stands, 
with all its errors and all its susceptibilities of improvement, the 
light of saviog knowledge can be poured forth so clearly and 
abundantly throughout the families of our land, that all the 
critics sad lexicographers of all of cor universities can nuke no 
sensible addition either to its brilliancy or to it* fulness. To 
me the intolerable thing is that haughty and heartless scholar- 
ship which would feel a pleasure in disowning this, or rather 
would not feel most triumphant satisfaction in the thought of 
our species ■ c v s u to the meet sunken in want and drudgery — 
being so richly and so largely provided for. It is well to be told 
of the Polyglots and TbetMuusss, and other elaborate compend* 
and digests of biblical lore, in the preparation of which the Uvea 

»nd labours of our might**** men, whether on the laid of east™. 

versyor in the high places of a recondite and lofty erudition, hare 
been expended. But is it not also well to be told that is the 
Bible— the current and familiar Bib l e - used in every village 
school, and a universal inmate or companion in the tceasnsat* 
of our peasantry — that in this book, not the truth only, but the 
whole truth which is unto solvation, without adulteration, with, 
out change, without defect, for not one particle of essential 
doctrine or duty is there wanting— that thence the light, which 
is the life of man, shines in the eyes of a pious cottage family 
with a lustre which no learning can either enhancs or extin- 
guish | sod, in a word, that the real subject-matter of Christi- 
anity is placed before them so entire and so unimpaired by the 
transitions which it has undergone, in the lapse of centuries, 
from one country and from one language to another, that all the 
truths and all the treasures of immortality are their own," 

The author's religions views ore known to have been 
those of Calvin and of Jonathan Edward* of Amerjoe, 
The latter occupied a very high place is bis e ttun stion, m 
will be teen from the following passage 

"And now we shall have recourse again to the more precise 
though prosaic argument of Edwards, whs, though not the tret 
that entered on the field of this philosophy, was the first that say 
tired it with the might and the prowess of a conaueror, sod be* 
made it ail bis own. His is far the highest name which the 
New World lias to boast of; and if aught can enhance oar re- 
verence for the achievement by which he distanced to immsasar- 
ably all the speculation* of all the school* in Europe, it mast be 
that it was an achievement consecrated»by the deepest sans* «f 
religion, snd performed by a man who, almost unconscious of 
science, or at least unambitious of all its honours, was prompted 
to the task which he fulfilled so admirably, by his devotednes* to 
that cause which, ss a Christian minister, he felt to be the dear- 
est aud the best. There is, indeed, a wide contrast between the 
unfettered people among whom he laboured as * pastor, and the 
philosophers with whom, a* an author, he held converse j 
and something most touching!/ beautiful in the a d a pt a ti o n that 
he raedeof himself to both — giving rise to a corresponding con- 
trast between the plain ministrations »f bis Sabbath, and the pro- 
found musings and inspirations of his solitude. Hit book en the 
'Freedom of the Will,' with a homeliness of style that repre- 
sents the worth and the simplicity of his private life— by the fine 
staple of its thoughts, and the whole texture of its wondrous ar- 
gument, is aa undying testimony to the superiority and unrivalled 
strength or his metaphysical talents. Never was there a bap- 
pier combination of great power with great piety; and ware it 
not for the higher examples, and the surpassing volume where- 
with Heaves has directly furnished us, I would hold it ai toe bright- 
est eulogy both on the character and the genius of any clergy- 
man, that he copied the virtues and had imbibed the tseplegy 
of Edwards." 

The same peculiarity of style which distinguishes aO 
the author** writings, characterise* the volume* before u*. 
We refer to his well-known practise of presenting the sorae 
idea, over and over again, in various aspect* — a peculiarity 
that led the celebrated Robert Hall to compare the author* 
mode of treating a subject to the working* of » kn&de* 
scope :— 

There is a distinction made by theologians between the ac- 
tive and the pistive righteousness of Christ. Substantially, I am 
inclined to adopt it I hold it to be scriptural, and there is • 
fulness in the conception which better accords with aU that we 
are taught to believe respecting the fulness of the Gospel remedy, 
and which seems suited to the reel exigencies of our species. By 
this view He is regarded, not merely as having suffered, but as 
having served for us — not merely as having born our penalties, 
and so furnished us with a plea for forgiveness, but at having 
done our work of incumbent obedience, and so furnished us with 
a plea for reward. He hath done more than purchased our release 
from the agonies of Hell. He hath purchased for us an inheri- 
tance in Heaven. Had He only brought an a tonement into tb* 
world, we should have been but as assoibned criminals, or dis- 
missed rimpliciter from the bar — freed from the vengeance of 
oar country's outraged lsws. But Hs brought is aa everlasting 
a. its strength we arc preferred to a »e*t 

righteousMM also, and on j 


of honour and distinction in th« palace of our Sovereign. On 
the limited conception of the matter, we are but placed in a 
midway state between a wretched and a blissful eternity. On 
the extended conception of it, there is secured our complete 
translation from the condemnation of the one, to the triumphs 
and enjoyments of the other. The redemption that is through 
the blood of Jesus, is but the forgiveness of sins. But He is 
made unto us righteousness, as well as redemption ; and we, in 
virtue of this glorious investure, can lay positive claim to a place 
and a preferment in Paradise. In a word, we can not only plead 
the efficacy of His death — we can plead the affirmative merit 
of His obedience ; and so, all humbled as we ought to be when 
we think of our destitution in ourselves, we in Him have both a 
right of discharge from the prison house of condemnation, and a 
right of entry into the upper mansions that He has gone to pre- 
pare for us." 

Throughout the volumes we have not only the theolo- 
gian, but also the philosopher and man of literature and 
science, addressing as ; and it is delightful to observe the 
frequent use the author makes of his rich stores of science 
and philosophy, in expounding and illustrating the different 
parts of divine truth. Indeed, one cannot fail to see how 
much the value and superiority of the work before us is 
owing to this combination of gifts in the writer. Out of 
many, we give an example of this — not certainly the most 
striking that might be selected : — 

" In further illustration of this high theme, when propounding 
it to the more lettered of your hearers, you may add that the 
planet we occupy forms part of the material world ; and that if 
it lost the inclination of its gravity to the sun, it would drift 
waywardly in space, and become an outcast from the harmonies 
of the great mundane system. Such an arrangement would, be- 
sides, disturb and derange mightily the terrestrial physics of our 
globe ; yet, without their annihilation or the entire reversal of 
any of their laws — for still might magnetism and cohesion and 
chemistry retain their wonted affinities and produce their wonted 
effects, even on the surface of this stray world. And so the ra- 
tional species by whom onr planet is inhabited, form part of the 
moral world ; and, should the hold of our allegiance be broken, 
we quit the place that belonged to us, and wander afar from God's 
spiritual and unfallen family. Such an event must — such an 
event has — introduced the utmost derangement and disorder, both 
into the relations and the ethics of onr terrestrial society. Yet 
it has not utterly destroyed these relations, nor has it utterly ex- 
tinguished the ethics ; and there do, in the midst of all our 
alienation from God — there do, after the extinction of all true 
religious principle, survive other principles that operate beau- 
teously and beneficially among the families of earth. There still 
Subsist many of the equities of social life, many of the charities 
of home and kindred, many of the courtesies, not of manner 
alone, bnt of honest friendship, many, in short, of the honour- 
able and kind-hearted virtues of good citizenship ; the citizen- 
ship of the world, we mean, though we have no part in the 
' citizenship of Heaven. It is not needed to prop the cause of 
orthodoxy, it is not needed harshly to refuse them, as has been 
done by many a stern theologian. There are undoubted vir- 
tues in the world — but still the virtues of a world which, in 
reference to God, is lying in wickedness. There are the affi- 
nities and the duties of brotherhood amongst us — but such a 
brotherhood as we might observe among exiles, whom their 
Crimea have separated from the community which gave them birth. 
We have not entirely broken out among ourselves ; but we have 
entirely broken with our God. We have laws of our own which 
we may or may not adhere to— laws of state, laws of honour, 
laws of conventional morality ; but the law of love to God has 
lost its hold of us ; and before the justice that sits on the eter- 
nal throne, we must all lie low in the abyss of condemnation. 
We may range the better and the best of such a world around 
a terrestrial standard; but under this celestial standard, to speak 
of sinners greater and less, is to speak of distances greater and 
leas of earthly places from the sun. God reads on every forehead 
the characters of revolt and dissatisfaction against himself; He 
looks across a dreary gulf of separation from us all, and finds that 
there is none who understandeth, none who seeketh after God." 

To ministers and students the "Institute*" must espe- 

cially be useful and attractive ; but we should regret if 
the privilege of possessing and perusing them were enjoyed 
only by them. Such is the simplicity and charm of the 
author s mode of handling the subjects, and such the po- 
pular way in which the lectures have been prepared, that 
there is nothing to prevent any ordinary mind from reading 
them with great profit and delight. There are many such 
passages as the one with which we conclude : — 

" Let me first, then, instead of our supposed criminal, fasten 
on a man of average and every-day character in society — such a 
one as we meet daily in hundreds upon our streets, or in the 
walks of ordinary fellowship — a person who divides his time be- 
tween the sleep which refreshes him and the food which sustains 
him, and the work which earns for him the means or materials 
of his livelihood — one who is not at all to be shunned or exe- 
crated as a delinquent, but a very tolerable, companionable, and 
neighbourlike person, who loves his children, or the members of 
his own household, very much as the bulk or the generality of 
other folks do — keeps up a fair and courteous standing with his 
acquaintance — pays to all their dues — and, on the whole, makes 
his way evenly and inoffensively through the world. I would 
just ask such a person — and I have no doubt there are hundreds 
of such in many a congregation — that he will just look ou these 
the wonted stages or cycles of his history, and, taking a review 
of the thoughts, and the feelings, and the desires, and the pur- 
poses that pass all the while in ceaseless and busy succession 
through his heart, will he just tell me how much or how little 
of God has been there P I do not wish to overtask his memory, 
and therefore will not send him over a very wide or extended 
survey of the years that are past ; but, to facilitate and abridge 
the labour of this self-examination, I would rather, if he chose, 
limit him to the retrospect of a single day, and to fix on the most 
recent and so the freshest in his recollection of any — I would 
bid him take an account of. the proceedings of yesterday, and 
then tell me how much or how little the will of God had to do 
with them. Was His will thought of at all, or ever. once adverted 
to? Did the principle, to walk worthy of the Lord onto all 
well-pleasing — did this principle give direction to one movement, 
or impulse to a single footstep in the transactions of yesterday P 
Was it the history of a Belf-willed and self-regalating creature, 
or of a creature ever looking upward from the earth he treads on 
to his Creator in the heavens, and subordinating himself in all 
things to the rightful authority of this Sovereign and Supreme 
Lawgiver P Let him tell sue, in a word, was it God's will or 
his will — whether the promptings of his own spontaneous incli- 
nation, or the precepts that issue from the throne of God — which 
of these, we ask, presided, or had the practical ascendancy over 
the whole course and couduct of the very last day which rolled 
over him P We leave the question to every man's conscience, 
and if it do bear witness to a godless yesterday, then, although 
the lights of our own memory should fail, there is a book of 
remembrance which tells in undying characters if the habit and 
character of this one day be not of a piece with the habit and 
character of all our days upon earth ; and so the godless yester- 
day were but the type and representative of a godless past week, 
a godless past month, a godless past year, a godless life-time ; or 
that, in other words, from the first breath of our infancy to the 
moment of the reckoning which we now hold, we may have been 
living in exile from God, living without God in the world." 

The Live* of ike Chief Justices of England. By Lord 
Campbell. In 2 vols. London : John Murray. 

A work of this nature cannot be properly noticed in 
a mere register, but our attention at present is entirely 
confined to the first volume. Lord Campbell dedicates 
his work very gracefully to his son, who pursues the 
profession of the law, with a better* prospect than that 
through which his father struggled from the Fifeshira 
manse, St. Andrews, and the Morning Chronicle office, 
to the Chancellorship of Ireland, and its liberal retiring 
allowance. Lives of the Chief Justices come appropri- 
ately from Lord Campbell after the completion of the 
Chancellors, The latter work has not gained for him the 
gitized by VjlJCHTTc 


Woolsack, and it is rumoured that he will be now con- 
tented with the Chief Justiceship if Lord Denman would 
retire; but the Timet has failed to persuade the present 
Chief Justice that he is done — a respectable man, deserv- 
ing to be superannuated. 

As to the commencement of the office of Chief Justice, 
Lord Campbell says that the office was introduced by 
William the Conqueror from Normandy. The office 
was thus a badge of conquest, entirely opposed to 
the customs and habits of the Anglo-Saxons. Cen- 
tralization indeed came in with the Normans, and 
no doubt exists that the Saxons before the day of 
Hastings were nearly in the position of tho Anglo- 
Saxons in the United States at present, except that 
the slaves were white. Free men were very free, and 
bought or sold slaves. The best half of the first 
volume is necessarily occupied with statements regarding 
men of whom the world knows little, and for whom now 
it cares less ; but they have cost the author long hours 
of poring into records that could only have been agreeable 
to a writer with a legal turn of mind. Happily, in 
this instance, that quality isjoined to a facility and clear- 
ness of style that weaves all those lawyer tales together 
like a romance. After looking over the first volume, we 
find few names persons who are not amongst 
the illustriously obscure, of whom mankind say nothing 

Odo, the first of the Chief Justiciars, was a remarkably 
wicked person, and quite ungrateful to his great patron, 
the first William, who put him into one of his dungeons, 
and there confined him, in his strong town and tower of 
Rouen, till death dealt with the Conqueror, and his friends 
warned him that forgiveness became the dying. Odo did 
not improve by adversity, and died at last in poverty in 
Palermo. The office was held, in past times, generally by 
men who gained their knowledge of the civil law as soldiers 
or as ecclesiastics. Thus, William de Warrcnne and Richard 
Glanville — both undoubted plagues of the Scots — held 
the office, although of course they knew little of the prin- 
ciples subsequently set forth by their illustrious successor, 

The history of the Chief Justices is, in reality, a his- 
tory of England, from the Conquest downwards, enlivened 
by personal anecdotes. For our purpose, however, it is 
better to notice the estimates formed of one illustrious 
Chief Jastice, than to attempt here to follow the 
probable future Chief Justice through the maze that he 
has threaded. 

Coke's name is, from the nature of his works, best 
known to the profession ; and Hales, from his invincible 
adherence to justice, best beloved by the people. The 
world did not always favour the great commentator on 
English law ; but the legal world is perhaps indebted 
to that circumstance, for be passed his retirement in 
correcting his great work : — 

"The first months of Coke's retirement were devoted to the 
publication of a new edition of his ' Commentary on Littleton,' 
which was the most accurate and valuable, till the thirteenth, 
given to the world in the end of the last century by those very 
learned lawyers Hargrave and Bntlcr. We have scanty infor- 
mation respecting the occupations and the incidents which befel 
him, till the dosing scene of his life. He continued constantly 
to reside at Stoke Pogis. He was never reconciled to Lady 
Hatton, who, there is reason to fear, grumbled at his longevity. 
Mr. Garrard, in a letter, written in the year 1633, to Lord-De- 

EEG1STER. 139 

puty Strafford, says, ' Sir Edward Coke was said to be dead, all 
one morning in Westminster Hall, this term, insomuch that his 
wife got her brother, the Lord Wimbledon, to post with her to 
Stoke, to get possession of that place ; but beyond Colebrook 
they met with one of his physicians coming from him, who told 
her of his much amendment, which made them also return to 
London ; some distemper he had fallen into for want of sleep, 
but is now well again.' 

" Till a severe accident which he met with, he had constantly 
refused ' all dealings with doctors ;' and ' he was wont to give 
God solemn thanks that he never gave his body to physio, sor 
his heart to cruelty, nor his hand to corruption.' When turned 
of eighty, and his strength declining rapidly, a vigorous attempt 
was made to induce him to take medical advice ; of this we 
have a lively account in a letter from Mr. Mead to Sir Martin 
Stuteville : — * Sir Edward Coke being now very infirm in body, 
a friend of his sent him two or three doctors to regulate his 
health, whom he told that he had never taken physic since he 
was born, and would not now begin ; and that he had now upon 
him a disease which all the drugs of Asia, the gold of Africa, 
nor all the doctors of Europe, could cure — oM ago. He there- 
fore both thanked them and his friend that sent them, and dis- 
missed them nobly with a reward of twenty pieces to each man.' 

" Of his accident, which, in tho first instance, produced no 
serious effects, there is the following account entered by him in 
his diary, in the same firm and clear hand which he wrote at 
thirty:— 'The 3d of May, 1632, riding in the morning in Stoke, 
between eight and nine o'clock, to take the air, my horse under 
me had a strange stumble backwards, and fell upon me (being 
above eighty years old), where my head lighted near to sharp 
stubbles, and the heavy horse upon me. And yet, by the pro- 
vidence of Almighty God, though I was in the greatest danger, 
yet I had not the least hurt, nay, no hart at all. for Almighty 
God saith by bis prophet David, "the angel of the Lord tarrieth 
round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them H nowun 
Domini benedxetim, for it was his work.' 

" But he hod received some internal injury by his fall, and 
from this time he was almost constantly confined to the house. 
His only domestic solace was the company of his daughter, Lady 
Pnrbeck, whom he had forgiven — probably from a consciousness 
that her errors might be ascribed to his utter disregard of her 
inclinations when he concerted her marriage. She continued 
piously to watch over him till his death." 

Even when thus usefully employed, he incurred the 
wrath of a fretful king and his jealous favourites, who 
suspected treason in Coke upon Littleton, and seized the 
copy : — 

"The Ex-Chief Justice was looked upon with constant suspi- 
cion, and the Government was eagerly disposed to make him the 
subject of prosecution. Buckingham had fallen by the hand of 
an assassin, but his arbitrary system of government was strenu- 
ously carried on by Laud, and those who had succeeded to power; 
taxes were levied without authority of parliament ; illegal procla- 
mations were issued, to be enforced in the Star Chamber ; and 
Noy*8 device of ship-money was almost mature. Sir Edward 
Coke, having then resided in the same county with Hampden, 
and at no great distance from him, it is conjectured, without any 
positive evidence, that they consulted together as to the manner 
in which the law and the constitution might be vindicated. So 
much is certain, that, from secret information which the Govern- 
ment had obtained, Sir Francis Windebank, the Secretary of 
State, by order of the King and council, came to Stoke on the first 
of September, 1634, attended by several messengers, to search for 
seditious papers, and, if any were found, to arrest the author. 
On their arrival they found SirE. Coke on his death-bed. They 
professed that they would, under these circumstances, offer him 
no personal annoyance ; but they insisted on searching every room 
in the house, except that in which he lay, and they carried away 
all the papers, of whatever description, which they could lay their 
hands upon. Among these were, the original MS. from which 
he had printed the ' Commentary on Littleton ;' the MS. of his 
Second, Third, and Fourth Institntes, his last' will, and many 
other papers in his handwriting. It is believed that Sir Edward 
Coke remained ignorant of this outrage, and that his dying 
moments were undisturbed. He had been gradually sinking for 
some time, and on the 3rd of September, 1634, he expired, in the 



eigUty-thinl year of hti age ; enjoying to the last the full pos- 
session of hi* mental powen, aid devoutly ejaculating, 'Thy 
kingdom come ! Thy will be done!' His remains were depo- 
sited in the family burying place at Titleshall in Norfolk, where 
a most magnificent marble monument has been erected to his 
memory, with a very long inscription, of which the following will 
probably be considered a sufficient specimen : — 

" ' Quiqne dam vixit, Bibliothrea viva, 
Mortuua diet meruit Bibliolheca parens, 
Buodecem Liberorum, tredeeim librorum Pater.' 

For the benefit of the unlearned, there is another inscription in 
the vulgar tongue, which, after pompously describing his life and 
death, thus edifyingly concludes, 

" ' Learne, reader, to lire so, that thou mayst so die.' " 

Sir E. Coke, as may have been reasonably expected, 
had little respect for poetry, except as illustrative of the 
law, and did not participate in the respect for genins 
and the courtship of the Muses shown by many of his 
snccessors. He never wrote sonnets like those of Lord 
Robertson, or tragedies like Sergeant Talfourd, but he 
wrote law. 

The antipathy for poetry extended itself with more force 
to the drama, and the Chief Justice despised the giant 
of his era, accounting Shakspeore nothing better than a 
vagrant. This disclosure will not gratify the friend* of 
the Bard of. Avon, but good men of strong prejudices 
exist in all generations ; and Shakspeare even may seem 
more admirable at a distance than he looked to his 
neighbour the Chief Justice :— 

" He values the father of English poetry only in so far si the 
* Canon's Yeoman's Talc' illustrates the statute 6, Hen. IV., 
e. 4, against alchymy, or the craft of multiplication of metal* ; 
and he classes the worshipper of the Muses with the most worth- 
less and foolish of mankind. ' The fatal end of these five is 
beggary — the alchemist, the monopotext, the concealer, the 
informer, and the poetaster : — 

" ' Sospe pater dixit, stndium quid inutile tentas 
Maeonides nulla* ipse reliquit opes.' 

"He shunned the society of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson, as 

of ragranU who ought to be set in the stocks, or whipped from 
tithing to tithing. The Bankside Company having, one summer, 
opened a theatre at Norwich, while he was recorder of that city, 
in hi* next charge to the grand jury he thus launched out against 
them: — 

"'I will request that you carefully put into execution the 
statute against vagranti — since the making whereof I have found 
fewer thieves, and the gaol leas pestered than before. The abuse 
of ttage players, wherewith I find the country much troubled, 
may easily be reformed, they having no commission to play in 
any place without leave; and, therefore, if by your willingness 
they be not entertained, yon may soon be rid of them.' 

" His progieaa in science we may judge of by his dogmatic 
asser.ion that ' the metals are six, and no more — gold, silver, 
copper, tin, lead, and iron ; and they all proceed originally from 
sulphur and quicksilver, as from their father and mother.'" 

The legal works of Coke have been received as autho- 
ritative by lawyers in all the times between Shakspeafe 
and the present, but Lord Campbell doubts their accuracy 
in some cases : — 

" Notwithstanding the value of his Reports, no reporter could 
venture to imitate him. Be represents a great many questions 
to be ' rewired" which were quite irrelevant, or never arose at 
all in the cause ; and these he disposes of according to his own 
fancy. Therefore, he is often rather a codiAer or legislator than 
a reporter : and this mode of settling or reforming the law would 
not now be endured, even if another lawyer of hi* learning and 
authority should arise. Yet all that he recorded as having been 
adjudged was received with reverence. The popularity of his 
Reports w«s much increased by the publication of a metrical ab- 

stract or rubric of the points determined, beginning with the 
name of the plaintiff. Thus : — 

" ' Hubbard : If lord Impose excessive fine, 

The tan int safely payment may decline.' 

(1 Hep. 17.) 

"'Cawdry: 'Gainst com non prayer If parson say 

In sermon aught, bishop deprive him may.' 

(3 Rep. L) 

" His optu magnum is his Commentary on Littleton, which tn 
itself may be said to contain the whole common law of England 
as it then existed. Notwithstanding it* want of method and its 
quintans*, the author write* from sash a fall mind, with sash 
mastery over hi* subject, and with such unbroken spirit, that 
every law student who has made, or is ever likely to make, aay 
profiriency, must peruse him with delight. 

" He apologises for writing these Commentaries in English, 
* for that they are an introduction to the knowledge of the na- 
tional law of the realm; a work necessary, and yet heretofore 
not undertaken by any, albeit in all other professions there are 
the like. I cannot conjecture that the general communicating 
these laws in the English tongne can work any inconvenience.' 

" This work which he thus dedicates—- 

" ' Hbjc ego Grandmvus Posoi Tibi Candida Lector,' 

was the most valuable fruit of his leisure after be had been tyran- 
nically turned out of office, and in composing it he seems to have 
lost all sense of the ill usage under which he had suffered, for he 
refers in his preface to ' the reign of onr late sovereign lord 
King James, of famout and ever bletted memory' " 

The religion of the lawyer was doubtless sincere, bat 
his profession was of an official character:-- 

" In his old age, he agreed with the Puritans, bat he continued 
to support the Eetablished Church ; and, a great peer threatening 
to dispute the right* of the Dean and Chapter of Norwich, be 
stopped him by saying, 'If you proceed, I will put on my cap 
and gown, and follow the cause through Westminster Hall.' 
From his large estate, he had considerable ecclesiastical patronage, 
which he always exercised with perfect purity, saying, in the pro- 
fessional jargon of which he was so fond, ' Livings ought to pan* 
by Livery and Seiti*, and not by Bargain and Salt' He cer- 
tainly was a very religious, moral, and temperate man, although 
he was suspected of giving to law a considerable portion of those 
hours, which, in the distribution of time, he professed to allot to 
prayer and the Muses, according to his favourite Cantalena:— 

"Bex boras somno, totldem des legtbns Seoul* 
Quatour orabis, des epulis que dune 
Quod supereat ultra sacris largtre."— Cmbbxi*. 

The following particulars regarding the family of Sir 
Edward Coke, whose descendant was the best English 
farmer of recent times, are interesting: — 

" He never betrayed a friend, or truckled to an enemy. He 
never tampered with the integrity of judges, or himself took a 
bribe. When he had risen to influence, he exerted it strenuously 
in support of the laws and liberties of his country, instead of 
being the advocate of every abuse, and the abettor of despotic 
sway. When he lost his high office, he did not retire from 
public life ' with wasted spirits and an oppressed mind,' over- 
whelmed by the consciousness of guilt; but bold, energetic, and 
uncompromising, from the lofty feeling of integrity, he placed 
himself at the head of that band of patriot* to whom we are 
mainly indebted for the free institutions which we now enjoy. 

" Lady Uatton, his second wife, survived him many years. 
On his death she took possession of the house at Stoke Pogis, 
and there she was residing when the civil war broke oat. Hav- 
ing strenuously supported the Parliament against the King; 
when Prince Rupert approached her with a military force, aha 
fled, leaving behind her a letter addressed to him, in which 
having politely said, ' I am most heartily sorry to fly from this 
dwelling when I hear your Excellency is coming so near it, 
which, however, with all in and about it, is most willingly ex- 
posed to your pleasure and accommodation,' sbe gives him this 
caution :■ — ' The Parliament is the only firm foundation of too 
greatest establishment the King or his posterity can wish and 
attain, and, therefore, if youTtioold persist » the unhappines* 



to support any adVies to break the ParUament, upon any pretence 
whatsoever, yon •hall concur to destroy the best groundwork 
for his Majesty's prosperity.' 

" Sir Edward Coke, by his first wife, had seven sons, but none 
of them gained any distinction except Clement, the sixth, 
who being a member of the House of Commons at the beginning 
of the reign of Charles I, in the debate upon the impcachmentof 
the Duke of Buckingham, had the courage to use these words: — 
'It is better to die by an enemy than to suffer at home ;' for 
which there came a message of complaint from the crown, and 
ha would have been sent to the Tower but for the great re- 
spect for the ex-Chief Justice, who was sitting by his side, and 
disdained to make any apology for him. 

** Roger Coke, a grandson of the Chief Justice, in the year 
1*60, published a book, entitled 'Justice Vindicated,' which, al- 
though without literary merit, contains many curious anecdotes 
of the times in which the author lived. 

" In 1747, Thomas Coke, the lineal neir of the Chief Justice, 
was raised to the peerage by the titles of Viscount Coke, and 
Earl of Leicester; but on his death the male line became ex- 
tinct. The family was represented through a female by the lata 
Thomas Coke, Esq,., who, inheriting the Chief Justice's estate, 
and lore of liberty, after representing the Connty of Norfolk in 
the House of Commons for half-a-century, was, in 1837, created 
Viscount Coke, and Earl of Leicester, titles now enjoyed by the 
son. Holkham, I hope, may long prove an illustration of the saying 
of the venerable ancestor of this branch of the Cokes, that the 
blessing of Heaven specially dasoends on the posterity of a great 

The second volume, being nearer oar own times, appears 
more useful than the first in many respects, and we will 
examine it more fully at another opportunity. 



Tan month of January is generally the quietest in the year ° 
in regard to railway transactions. We have few business meet- 
ings of any kind to record, and those arc of a comparatively un- 
important character. The year, so far, is auspicious to railway 
property, as a considerable improvement has been experienced in 
the stock of the leading companies. Whether it will be main- 
tained, or rise still higher in value, is doubtful; though the 
general impression is, that we have seen the worst, and that a 
steady advance in the shares of good companies may be expected. 
There is, however, some agitation on foot respecting one or two 
leading companies, which tend to assist the Bears. The share- 
holders of the Caledonian Company are organising a strong 
opposjtMm to the present directors, in order to effect a change 
ef board at the next half-yearly meeting ; and the North Staf- 
fordshire proprietors are engaged in a similar work. Both parties 
complain that their directors have ruined, instead of managed 
their property, and they do not scruple to say so at public meet- 
ings, and through the press. Hence a spirit of distrust and 
Saw is kept alive, which checks the upward tendency of stock 
setting; in, now that the publie are recovering somewhat from 
the Hudson panic. 

Speaking of Mr. Hudson, after a long silence, he has at last 
volunteered a defence, which has extensively gone the round of 
the press in the form of an advertisement. The case he endea- 
vours to make out, however, is deemed by many far from satis- 
factory or straightforward, and is to a great extent an admission 
ef the bungling which characterised his reign. 

The actual business of the month may be condensed into a 
narrow compass ; and is to the following effect : — 

Ytrk, Netmulle, ml Berwick Railway. — A. special general 
meeting of this company was held at York on January S, to 
consider an arrangement for extending the time for payment of 
the purchase money of that line ; and also an agreement between 
the new directors and Mr. Hudson, by which all legal proceed- 
ings against that gentleman were to be abandoned on his paying 
a stipulated sum to the company. After some opposition, resolu- 
tions, approving of the plan of settlement suggested by the 
directors, were unanimously adopted. 

nVitut and Driffield Junction Railvey. — The half-yearly 
meeting of the shareholders of this company was held at Walton 
on Tuesday, 8th January, the Earl of Carlisle in the chair. The 
directors' report showed that the receipts up to the SOth 
December, 1840, amounted to £132,525 6s. 7d. ; payments to 
£129,400 14s. 3d. ; leaving a balance in the hands of the 
bankers of £8,115 lis. fid. The works are stated to bo rapidly 
approaching completion. 

Realms Audil. — At a general meeting of directors and other 
officials connected with railways, held in London, January 16, it 
was resolved to abandon the bill formerly agreed to — and to leave 
the matter to be discussed and settled by the shareholders at the 
Isribeonring half-yearly meetings. 
SeeUiik Central Railway. — A special general meeting of this 
r Vat Mt at Perth, m Tuesday, January U, for the 

purpose of considering and determining whatcotirse it would be 
most expedient and advisable for the company to pursue, in con- 
sequence of the refusal of the London and North- Western, Lan- 
caster and Carlisle, and Caledonian Railway Companies to con- 
tinue the working of the line, in terms of the working agreement. 
Lord Duncan in the chair. The Chairman moved the adoption 
of the report of the directors, which was seconded by Air. Bruce, 
when the Marquis of Bresdalbane moved an amendment to the 
effect, " That a committee of shareholders be appointed to investi- 
gate the affairs of the company, including an investigation into 
all contracts and agreements of every description heretofore 
entered into by the directors, and to report thereon ; an inquiry 
into the general management of the line, the revenue, expendi- 
ture, and liabilities of the company, and to report their opinion 
thereon, and as to what line of oonduct they would recommend to 
be adopted by the company. A nd that, in carrying out such inves- 
tigation, the committee shall have power to call competent 
acoountants, counsel, and engineers to their assistance, and to 
examine the directors, officials, and books of the company, and 
have all the powers necessary for making their investigation. 
And, in the meantime, that the directors should do nothing to 
alter the position in which this company now stands in relation 
to the southern or other companies, and that the following gen- 
tlemen form the committee : — Mr. W. Bonar, Mr. Buchanan, 
Edinburgh ; Mr. Wilson, do.; Mr. Bridges, W.S. ; aad CoL J. 
A. Robertson, Edinburgh." Mr. Spiers seconded the amend- 
ment, which was adopted, and the directors immediately resigned. 

North Staffordshire Railway.— k meeting of the Metropo- 
litan shareholders in this railway was held nt the London 
Tavern, on the 33d January, for the purpose of ' ' considering 
the expediency of obtaining a committee of inquiry to in- 
vestigate the affairs of the company generally, to rednoJ 
tho number of directors, to diminish the working and other 
expenses, and to co-operate with the committee of share- 
holders already formed in Bmffordsblreforsirailarpurposes." 
Thero was a large attendance of proprietors. M ijor- General 
Brifrgs was voted to the chair. Mr. A. Asher Qoldsmid 
proposed the following resolution: " That It seems expedient 
to thle meeting that measures be immediately adopted for 
the formation of a committee of shareholders at or after the 
ensuing half-yearly meeting of the North Staffordshire 
shareholders, at Btoke-upon- Trent, on the SOth instant, if it 
should bo then thought necessary to inqaire generally into 
the position and engagements of the North Staffordshire 
Railway Company; the relations with the London and 
North Western, and the probability of any saving being 
effected in the expenditure. Mr. Durham reconded tho 
resolution ,wbiob, after some discussion, passed unanimously, 
tho words " if it should bo thought neoossary" having been 
first expunged, a deputation of London shareholder*. 



composed of General Briggs; Mr. Taunton, Mr. Renwick, 
Mr. R. P. Brown, and Mr. George Smith, was appointed to 
collect the proxies of suoh persona as might be unable to 
attend the meeting at Stoke, with a view of supporting the 
resolutions for a committee of investigation. 

This comprises all the material business of the month 
under the head of Railways. 


Subjoined will be found an abstract of the transactions of 
the month connected with this important branch of joint- 
stock enterprise. 

Noraich Union Fire Insurance Society. — The annual 
court of proprietors was held in London on the 22d of Janu 
arjr— Anthony Hudson, Esq., in the chair. The accounts 
were arranged under three classes — First, the annual 
balance sheet of the cash transactions of the office; second, 
the capital account, and how invested at tho 29th September 
last; third, a return of the aggregate sum insured in the 
past year, amounting , to £60,991, 177. The President re- 
marked that the annual incomo of the office for premiums 
On insurances now amounted to £93,590 Gs. 10J., a greater 
sum than ever before was received in a single year. The 
losses by fire in the past year were below the average, and 
the result of the year's transactions left them with a profit 
of £22,?46 13s. 7d., which, added to a former reserve of 
£14,016 19s., gave them a total of £88,703 13s. 3d. now dis 
posable. A dividend of £10 per cent, on tho paid-up capital 
was declared. The President next adverted to a loss of 
£20,000 sustained by the society in Derbyshire. Provision 
was made for this loss by the reserves in hand of £24,000. 
Henry Browne, Esq., then moved, "That this court, having 
tiken into consideration tho resolution come to at an extra- 
ordinary board of directors, lield on the 28th day of Novem- 
ber last, that it was advisable to continue this society for a 
term of years beyond the original term of thirty years men* 
tioned in the deed of settlement, such further term to com- 
mence on and from the Otb day of August, which will be in 
the year 1851, when the original term will expire — doth re- 
solve on tbe farther continuance of the society, and to fix 
such further term at thirty years, to commence on and from 
the 0th day of August, 1851. And this court doth also re 
solve that the said society shall be continued upon the same 
laws, regulations, and conditions as are expressed in the 
society's deed of settlement." P. J. Money, Esq., seconded 
the resolution, which was carried unanimously. 

Haihtorm Insurance Company. — On the 20th of Janu- 
ary last, the annual meeting of tbe shareholders was held at 
the office, in St. Giles's Street, Norwich — Samuel BignolJ, 
Esq., in the chair. The statement of the accounts was so 
satisfactory, that bonuses of 76, 60, 49, or 30 per cent, were 
declared, according to the number of years the parties 
have insured; and a dividend of 5 per cent., with a bonus 
of ten shillings. The society has never had a single case 
litigated. It secures tbe safety of its insurers by the 
whole of tbe capital, £150,000. The report stated that 
the whole £150,000 capital stock has been subscribed 
for; and, after appropriating £1,500 to form an additional 
reserve fund, each proprietor will receive n bonus ol 
10s. per share, to be added as a credit to bis paid- 
up capital ; and to eaeb insurer a bonus of 75 per cent, upon 
his annual premium, where he has been insured for five 
years, with a proportionate lesser amount in case of insur- 
ance for a smaller number of years ; tho insurers' bonus to 
be payable upon tbe renewal of their insurances. 

National Mercantile Life J intranet Society.— -The fol- 
lowing report of tho past year's business in the life 
department was read at the recent meeting of this 
society. This society has beep singularly fortunate 

in only having bad to pay the small sum of £1,509 
for claims by deaths caused by cholera ; and the amount 
paid for elaims by deaths, from all causes, from the com- 
mencement of tho soeiety, in 1837, up to the present 
period, does not amount to more than £32,600 lis. Id., being 
less than the present income of the society for one year. 
One of the advantages held out by this society is " economy 
in the management." The total amountof current annual 
expenditure of 26 offices (exolosive of commission and medi- 
cal fees), by their last published balance sheets, was £142,625, 
averaging for each office 5,4861. Tbe expenditure of this 
office for tbe last year (exclusive of commission and medi- 
cal fees), amounts to 2,093/., showing a difference in favour 
of this office, as compared with the above, of 2,7917. 

Tbe total amount assured during the four 
years, ending December, 1815, was £355,695 IS 

During the four years, ending December, 
1849, was — _ > _ _ „ 653,985 13 
Showing an increase during the last, as compared with the 
preceding four years, of 81 per cent During the same 
period the assets of tbe soeiety have increased upwards of 
100 per cent. 

Oily of London Life Assurance Company. -'The annual 
meeting of this institution was held in London on tbe' 23d 
of January—James B, Bennett, E»q., M.D., in the chair. 
The number of new policies issued from tbe 1st Nov., 1818, 
to 31st October, 1810, was 148, assuring the sum of £66,097 
lis. 2d., and producing an addiiional income of £2,268 9s. 
3d. There bad also been 31 proposals for insuring the sntn 
of £16,102 deolined. The total number of policies in force 
on 31st October last was 597, assuring a sum of £209,729 
2s. 10d., and producing (after deducting the premiums upon 
all lapsed policies) an annual income of £7,766 Us. Id. 
To these had been since added 16 policies, assuring £5,747, 
and increasing the annual income to £7,998 2s. lOd. In 
tho third year of the society's existence a claim for £500 
had become payable. During the past year a further 
claim of £1,000 only had arisen, and that from the opidemio 
which was recently *o prevalent. The balance sheet showed 
an amount of receipts under various heads, £90,844 10s. 4d. 
A dividend of 5 per cent, was declared. 

Sovereign Life Assurance Company. — The fourth ordi- 
nary general meeting of the proprietors of this company was 
beld in London, on the 2d January— Lord Arthur Lenox in 
the chair. The report contained the following statement 
—That, from the 0th October, 1818, to the 9th October, 
1849, there have been issued 213 policies, covering assurances 
to tbe extent of £1 12 350, and yielding annual premiums to 
tho amount of £3,221 9s. 2d.; 187 of these policies were 
issued during the last nine months of the year; and there 
is a marked increase of business throughout tho whole of 
the financial year 1849, compared with the corresponding 
months of the year preceding. Tho renewal premiums 
received on subsisting assurances during the past year have 
amounted to £3,570 10s. 3d.; the premiums received on sew 
policies, during the same time, have been £3,047 14s. 6d., be- 
ing an increase on the preceding 2f years of about 86 percent. 
Tbe premiums received during last year amounted to £6,614 
14s. 9d. From the commencement of business to 0th of Oct. 
last, there were issued 638 policies, covering assurances to 
the amount of £296,539, and yielding annual premiums to 
tho amount of £8,612 5s. id., and of these no less than 130 
policies, assuring to the extent £02,203 have lapsed, the 
annual premiums on which equal £1,8)1 6s. lOd. There 
have been mado to the company no less than 1,140 proposals 
for assurances, amounting to upwards of £623,000, and out 
of this number 673 only have been accepted and completed. 
This large number of proposals which have been declined 
is principally to be accounted for by the care exercised on the 
part of the. medical officers, and, the. determination of the 



Board not to accept a life in any cue without satisfactory 
evidence of the individual being in a good state of health. 
The total amount which has been assured exceeds, however, 
£300,000, in respect of which upwards of .£15,000 has been 
received in premiums. The total amount of all claims from 
death from the commencement of the company to this date 
(four lives only having fallen in) is £2,600, which is more 
than covered by £400, the consideration for an annuity wbioh 
has ceased by the death of the annuitant, and £2,795 17s 2d, 
the amount of premiums received on account of policies 
which have lapsed. The sum of £3,235 has been received 
for annuities granted. The annual income from premiums 
of policies in force is now upwards of £7,300. The report 
was carried, after which a dividend of 6 per oent. was de- 
clared for the past year. 

Temptranee and General Provident Institution.— la their 
last annual report, the directors announced an increase in 
the year's business, as compared with former years, of no 
less than 30 per cent. They have now to report a still 
further increase of upwards of 100 per cent. The entrance 
premiums on assurances effeoted in 1810, as compared with 
those of 1846, are more than doubled. The accounts have 
been balanced as usual to the 20th November, and the 
balance in favour of the institution at that date, exclusive 
of deposits and claims not due, is £'31,153 4s. 2d. The 
amount of premiums and interest receive.! during the year 
ending at the above date, is £14,479 19s. 7d., and the 
amount of claims on aoeount of deaths £3,325. The sum 
of £851 Is. 9d.has been paid for the purchase of polioies 
and in returns of premium pursuant to tho rules. The num- 
ber of policies issued during the year ending 31st December 
is 910. The annual premiums on these policies amount to 
£5.351 10s. 8d. These policies are distributed among the 
departments as follows, viz.: — 

Temperance Section, Life Policies— 597 covering £70,000 

Ditto Funeral Fund 58 „ 635 

Public Section, including depart. 11— 419 „ 74,637 

Total life Assurances this year — 847 £145,272 
The remaining policies are for annuities, deferred sums, 
and endowments for children. The total nnmber of poli- 
cies now issued is 4,077, bearing annual premiums amount- 
ing to £18,787 15s 2d. The net annual revenue from pre- 
miums and interest, after deducting lapsed polioies and 
those in arrear, is £15,909 3s. 7d., being an inorease of 
£4,936 6s 9d since last year. The deaths during the past 
year have been as follows :— 

Temperance Section, departments 1 and 2 . 19 

Ditto Funeral Fund, £20 and £10_„____. 4 

Public Section, departments 9 and 11 ™— 8 

Total deaths among 2,795 life policies in force „ 26 

Notwithstanding the ravages of the cholera, the rate of 
mortality in this institution has suffered very little in- 
crease; being still nnder 1 per cent. Excluding the 
funeral fund (consisting of about 200 assurances of £20 

and under, and which shows a higher rate), the deaths 
have been less than 9 per 1,000 ; whioh is the usual rate of 
mortality, supposing all the lives assured were under 24 
years of age: whereas, out of 1,074 lives in department 1, 
nearly one-half aro over 40 ; sixty-four are over 60; and only 
thirty-eight under 25. A calculation has been made of the 
number of deaths whioh should have occured in the first de- 

Number of deaths according to the published experienos 

of the London offices _ — — — — 13 
Ditto, according to the population returns — — 14 
Ditto, according to the Northampton observations — 21 
Actual deaths iu this Office (including 3 from cholera) 7 
Assuming the experience of a cholera year to bo a safe guide, 
the deaths which should have occurred up to this data 
would be, at the lowest computation, 135, and at the highest 
219. The actual number has been 73. 

National Provident Institution.— The annual meeting of 
this institution was held tho first week in January. Con- 
siderable exoitement prevailed on account of the opposition 
of a portion of the proprietors to the policy of the directors. 
In the present instance the retiring members were Mr. 
Christy snd Mr. Tyler ; and the directors had deemed it ex. 
podient, as a body, to recommend and support the return 
of these gentlemen to the vacated scats, in opposition to the 
pretensions advanced by Mr. Whetham, who was an unsuc- 
cessful candidate at the preceding election. The election 
has terminated as follows:— 

Mr. Whetham — — — _ 650 
Mr. Castle „ „ _. — 451 
Mr. Bradbury _ — — — 450 
Mr. Christy _ — — _ 419 
Mr. Tyler- — — — — 401 
The tabular statement of the progress of the institution 
from its commencement, Appended to the report, shows that 
during the last year 1,736 new polioies have been issued, 
the premiums on which amount to £27,233 19s. 6d. The 
annual income of the institution is £151,976 4s. 7d., and the 
amount of accumulated oapital £517,243 17s Id. 

London and Westminster Banking Company. — The half- 
yearly meeting of this Company was held at the offices, 
Lothsbury, London, on January 16 — Mr. Joeuah Walker in 
the ohair. The nett profits of the bank for the half year 
have been £33,391 0s. 3d., on which a dividend at the rata 
of 6 per cent per annum was deolared. £2,391 was added 
to the surplus fund. 

London Joint-Stock Bank— The half -yearly meeting of 
the proprietors was held in London on January 17, Mr. 
George Scbolefield in the chair. Tho nett profit realised 
during the half year was stated to be £25,134 10s. 8d.; 
whioh, with £15,433 14s. Id., carried forward from June, 
makes a total of £40,566 4s. 0J., whieh it was resolved to 
appropriate as follows:— £18,000 for a dividend, at the rate 
of 6 per cent, per annum; £22,500 as a bonus, of 7s. fid. par 
share; and £68 4s. 9d. to tho Guarantee Fund, now amount- 
ing to £132,723 3s. 8d. 


Among the obituary notices of last month's number, we re- 
tarded the death, at Great Malvern, Worcestershire, on Christmas 
Ere, of Mr. Patrick Fraser Tytler, author of the " History of 
Scotland," and other historical and biographical works. He 
belonged to a literary family, and nobly sustained the honours 
which, in the world of letters, his father and grandfather had won. 
He was the grandson of Mr. William Tytler of Woodhouselee, 
a writer to the signet in Edinburgh, and one of the vice-presidents 

of the Edinburgh Antiquarian Society. His principal work is " An 
Historical and Critical Inquiry into the Evidence produced 
against Mary, Queen of Scots," in which he combated the views 
taken by Dr. Robertson in his " History of Scotland," of the 
reign and character of that beauteous, but ill-fated Queen. He 
also published the " Poetical Remains of James I. King of Scot- 
land," with a dissertation on the life and writings of the royal 
poet, whieh is honourable to his literary taste and research ; 
and wrote an "Essay on Scottish Music," appended to "AraeV. 


History at Edmburgh." Among hit papers in. (he Antiquarian 
transactions, are a " Dissertation on the Marriage of Queen Mary 
to the Earl of Bothwell;" " Observation on the Visiou, a Poem," 
first published in" Ramsay's Evergreen;" and "An Account of the 
fashionable Amusements and Entertainments of Edinburgh in 
the Seventeenth Century." To the sixteenth number of "The 
Lounger," he contributed a paper on the " Defects of Modern 
Female Education, in teaching the Duties of a Wife." He died 
in 1792. 

The eldest son of this gentleman, Alexander Eraser Tjtler, 
Lord Woodhauselee (born at Edinburgh in 1717, died there iu 
1S13), the father of the subject of this notice, distinguished him- 
self both as a lawyer and as an anthor. Admitted advocate in 
1770, he was for many year* Professor of Civil History in the 
University of Edinburgh ; and after being Judge- Advocate for 
Scotland, he was raised to the bench of the Court of Session in 
the beginning of 180*2, and took his scat as Lord Woodhoa se- 
ise. In 1811 he became a judge in the Justiciary Court. For 
the use of the students attending the Chair of History, he 
printed in 1782 the heads or outlines of the lectures delivered by 
him, under the title of "A Plan and Outlines of a Course of 
Lectures on Universal Ilistory, Ancient and Modern," which he 
afterwards enlarged and published in 1801, in 2 vols. Bvo, with 
the name of "Elements of General. History, Ancient and 
Modern." The lectures themselves, as finally revised by the 
author, were published at London in 1834', in six small volumes, 
under the title of " Universal History, from the Creation of the 
World to the beginning of the Eighteenth Century." Among 
his other works are a "Treatise on Martial LaW; an "Essay 
on the Principles of Translation;" " An Historical and Critical 
Essay on the Life of Petrarch ;" and " Memoirs of the Life and 
Writings of Lord Kaimea." 

By his wife, Anne, eldest daughter of William Eraser, Esq. of 
Balmain, whom ho married in 1778, Lord Woodhouseleo left four 
sons and two daughters. The eldest son, in right of his mother, 
succeeded to the estate of Balmain, in Inverncss-shlre, and the 
second, James Tytler, W.S., judge-depute for Scotland, to that 
of Woodhottselee, near Edinburgh — the " haunted Woodhoase- 
lea" of Sir Walter Seott's ballad of the "Gray Brother." 
Another son, Alexander, published, in 1815, a work in two 
.volumes, entitled "Considerations on the Present Political State 
of India." The youngest son was Patrick, the historian of 

Mr. Patrick Eraser Tytler was born about 1790. He was en- 
Tolled a member of the Faculty of Advocates in 1813, and held 
for some years the office of King's counsel in Exchequer. His 
tastes and inclinations led him to forsake the law for the labori- 
ous paths of literature. His first adventure was a volume of 
travels in France, published in 1815, written in conjunction with 
Mr. Sheriff Alison, who has since acquired distinction as the 
anthor of " The History of Europe." 

Mr. Tytler's first publication of consequence was his "Life of 
the Admirable Criehton," published in 1823, in which he adduced 
the most satisfactory evidence to establish the authenticity of the 
testimonies and authorities, on which tho statements regarding 
the marvellous stories related of Criehton rest. The same year 
he also published, in one volume, an interesting and elaborate 
work, entitled " An Account of the Life and Writings of Sir 
Thomas Craig of Biccarton," iucluding biographical sketches of 
the most eminent legal characters, since the institution of the 
Court of Session by James V., till the period of the Union of 
the two Crowns. 

The first volume of his principal work, " The History of Scot- 
land," appeared in the summer of 1828. It professed to be an 
attempt " to build the history of that country upon unquestion- 
able muniments." In the prosecution of this important work 
Mr. Tytler anxiously and carefully examined the most authentic 
sources of information, and consulted the Slate papers and all 
other attainable documents bearing on the events of the times 
commemorated, for his materials. Successive volumes of Mr. 
. Tytler's history appeared at intervals, and the ninth, and last, was 
issued in the winter of 1843, with the following touching perora- 
tion : — " It is with feelings of gratitude, mingled with regret, 
that the anthor now closes this work — the history of his conn- 
try — the labour of little less than eighteen years* ; gratitude to 
the Giver of all good, that life and health have been spared to 
complete, however imperfectly, an arduous undertaking ; regret 
that the tranquil pleasures of historical investigation, the happy 
. hours devoted to the pursuit of truth, an at an and, and that ha 


most at last bid farewell to an old and dew eeanfjMhsi » Tkj 

work commences with the accession of Alexander IIL, in ISM, 
because it is at that period that our national annals become par- 
ticularly interesting to the general reader, and continues to the 
accession of James VI. to the throne of England in 1*08. Mr. 
Tytler's style is plain and perspicuous, always animated, and 
often elegant and vigorous. In this work Mr. Tytler evinced great 
talent and industry, and has added considerably to the amount 
and correctness of our knowledge of Scottish history. His 
laborious researches begin especially to be most elective when 
he reaches the troublous times of James V. He is thea most 
successful in bringing new sources of information to light, in 
correcting old mistakes, and combating and overturning revived 
prejudices. The first and second volumes were reviewed by Sir 
Walter Soott, and he intended to have criticised the work 
throughout, for he considered it, says Mr. Lookhart, as a vary 
important one in itself, and had, moreover, • warm regard for 
the author, the son of hi* early friend, Lord Woodhouaelee. 
During his University career, indeed, Sir Walter attended the 
class of history, then taught by the author's father, by whose 
cxamplo and advice he was much benefited and assisted in his 
studies, in other departments also. 

In Sir Walter's diary, under date, August 0, 1888, there is 
the following touching entry: — "Walked to Chiefiwood, and 
saw old Mrs. Tytler, a friend when life was young. Her 
husband, Lord Woodhouselee, was a kiud, amiable, and accom- 
plished man ; and when wo lived at Laaswade Cottage, soon 
after my marriage, we saw a great deal of the family, who ware 
very kind to ns when we newly entered on the world. How many 
early stories did the old lady's presence recall ! She might al- 
most be my mother j yet there we sat like two people of another 
generation, talking of thiags and people the rest knew nothing 
of. When a certain period of lib is over, the difference of 
years, even when considerable, becomes of much leu conse- 

Mr. Tytler's "History of Scotland" introduced him to the 
notice of Sir Robert Peel, when Premier, and a pension of L200 
a-year was bestowed upon him by Government. A charge which 
in tho seventh volume of his history, he brought against John 
Knox, as being "pre-oogoiaant of and implicated in" the murder 
of David Riiaio, has been ably answered by the Rev. Thomas 
M'Crie, son of the distinguished biographer of Knox, in the ap- 
pendix to his " Sketches of Scottish Cburch History ;'* and 
also by other writers tealous for the character and honour 
of the great reformer. The evidence adduced by Mr. Tytler, 
certainly, appears altogether insufficient to sustain such a charge,' 
in the (ace of all historical testimony to the contrary. 

Besides the " History of Scotland," Mr. Tytler was the author 
ol several other works of interest and value, written during the 
period when he wns principally engaged in its composition. To 
the " Family library - ." published by Mr. Murray, be contributed, 
in 1832-33, three volumes of "Lives of Scottish Worthies," one 
of the most attractive of his publications. For the " Edinburgh 
Cabinet library," he wrote an " Historical View of the Progress 
of Discovery on the more northern Coasts of America," 1838- 
the "Life of Sir Walter Raleigh," 1832; and the "Life of 
King Henry VUL," 1837. His "life of Raleigh" is remark, 
able for the view which ho starts and support* on the subject of 
Sir Robert Cecil's plots connected with Raleigh's ruin. It con- 
tains some new materials of interest, and is valuable for its able 
defence of that adventurous and interesting personage, and for its 
careful digest of state paper* and contemporaneous events. The 
same, indeed, may be said of all Mr. Tytler's works. 

For a London publisher, he edited two volumes of " Letters, 
illustrative of the Reign of Edward VI," printed from the 
original in the Stato-paper Office. About 1829, he wrote a few 
verses for one of the "Bannatyne Garlands;" and in 1833 in 
conjunction with Mr. Hog, of Newliston, and Mr. Adam 
Urquhart, advocate, he presented to the Baunatyne and Maitland 
Clubs, a volume illustrative of the revolution, entitled, "Memoirs 
of the War carried on in Scotland and Ireland, 1889-1691, by 
Major-General Hugh Mackay." 

Mr. Tytler's constitution, never robust, gradually gave war 
under the exhausting labour* of a literary life, and hi* health 
had long bran in a declining state. He was a severe, and, in 
general, an accurate historical student; and hi* pension, it was 
thought, would hare enabled him to continue his studies in 
British history ; and, perhaps, have induced him to writ* a por- 
tion of English history, which h* it knows (« hare wMm*> 



plated, and for whioh he had made collections. For the last six 
or seven years, however, the state of his health prevented him 
from pursuing his favourite studies. 

Mr. Tytler was twice married. His first wife was a daughter 
of Mr. Hog of Newliston; his second, a daughter of Mr. Bonar, 
the Russian merchant. He has left a widow, two sons, and a 

In private life he was a lively and engaging companion, of 
agreeable deportment, and interesting conversation. To the 
peculiar excellence of his private character, indeed, all who knew 
him, can bear their testimony. His deep, and unaffected piety, 
the warmth and benevolence of his heart, and the gentle sweet- 
ness and courtesy of his manners, were evinced not only in the 
affectionate intercourse of his family, but in the society of all 
who enjoyed tho privilege of his acquaintance. A correspondent 
who knew him well, writing to us on the subject of his lament- 
ed death, says : — "In all my long intercourse with the world, 
and especially with the best part of it, the world of literature, I 
never knew a more estimable or more amiable man." 

One by one the great men of our land and our century are 
pasting away. It is with feelings of deep regret that we have 
to record in this number of Taifs Magazine, the death of Francis 
Jejtrit, the critic and orator, which took place at Edinburgh 
on the evening of the 26th January, caused by bronchitis, ac- 
companied by fever. He was in court, in good health, on the 
previous Tuesday, but in the evening was seized with his last 
fatal illness. 

Francis Jeffrey, the son of George Jeffrey, a Deputo-clerk of 
Session, was born in Edinburgh in 1773. Jie received the first 
part of his education at the High School of his native city, and 
commenced his college studies at the University of Glasgow, 
whence he proceeded, in 1783, to Queen's College, Oxford. In 
1794, he was admitted a Member of the Faculty of Advocates. 
He formed one of the members of the Speculative Society, which 
comprised also Walter Scott, Henry Brougham, Francis Horner, 
Thomas Brown, and others, whose names have become illustri- 
ous in literature, science, and philosophy. With some of these 
yonng men originated the Edinburgh Renew, which, during the 
first year of its existence, was edited by the late Rev. Sidney 
Smith, then residing in Edinburgh as tutor to Lord Webb Sey- 
mour. On the return of Mr. Smith to England, Jeffrey be- 
came the editor, and in that capacity acquired a literary reputa- 
tion uniqne of its kind, and obtained an influence on contempo- 
raneous literature, and on public opinion, such as few have had 
the good fortune to enjoy. He became, in fact, the monarch of 
the realm of criticism, and the arbiter of the destinies of all the 
young anthnrs of that day. 

From 1803 to 1829 he continued to act as editor of the Review, 
to the pages of which he was at all times a large contributor, 
particularly in the departments of poetry and literature. His 
writings are characterised by ease and grace, while his political 
remarks are distinguished by the utmost liberality of sentiment. 
At a time when political excitement in this country was at its 
height, and it was dangerous to avow liberal opinions, Mr. Jeffrey 
did not hesitate to give his adherence and support to Whig 
principles j and for many years he was one of the principal 
leaders of the Reform party in Scotland. Through a most stormy 
and exciting period he held faithfully on in his course, and he 
lived to see the Test and Corporation Acts annulled, the Roman 
Catholic Emancipation Bill carried, the Reform Bill and the 
Municipal Bill part and parcel of the law of the land, with other 
advances in the great direction of political progress which, fil 
the commencement of the century, it was considered as some- 
thing amounting to sedition, even to demand. To counteract 
the great influence of the Edinburgh Review, both in the litera- 
ture and politics of the early part of the century, the Quarterly 
Review was organized by Sir Walter Scott, who, though differing 
"widely as the poles asunder" in politics from Mr. Jeffrey, con- 
tinned one of his most intimate friend* till his death. 

In the meantime, Mr. Jeffrey's ability, eloquence, and fear- 
lessness, as an advocate, soon placed him at the very head of the 
bar in this country, and for many years he was one of the lead- 
ing counsel in Scotland. In 1821, he was elected Lord Rector 
of the University of Glasgow. In 1829, he was unanimously 
chosen Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, on hi* election to 
which office he relinquished the editorship of tho Edinburgh Re- 
view, which was then entrusted to the late Mr. Macvey Napier. 

In 1830 Mr Jeffrey was appointed lord Advocate, and in 
January 1831, he was returned to Parliament for the Forfar dis- 
trict of burghs. At the general election, the same year, after 
being defeated in Edinburgh, for the representation of which 
city he had stood as a candidate, he was again elected by his 
former constituents. After the passing of the Reform Bill, be 
had the satisfaction, along with Mr. Abercromby, now Lord 
Dunfermline, of being elected member for his native city. Ha 
made no great figure in Parliament, his style of oratory being 
unsnited for the House of Commons. In 1834, on the death of 
Lord Craigie, he was nominated a Lord of Session, and took 
his seat on the bench as Judge Jeffrey. As a judge, he dis- 
charged his duties with undeviating attention, uprightness, and 
ability. His contributions to the Edinburgh Review, like those 
of Macaulay and the Bev. Sydney Smith, have been collected, 
and republished in a separate form. They extend to four vol- 
umes of valuable and brilliant criticism, and are sure to occupy 
a standard place in English literature. 

Lord Jeffrey was twice married, — first in 1801, to a daughter 
of the Bev. Br. Wilson, Professor of Hebrew in the University 
of St. Andrews; and secondly, in 1813, to Miss Wilkes, an 
American lady, a grandnicce, it is understood, of the celebrated 
John Wilkes. Mrs Jeffrey survives her hnshand. They had 
but one child, a daughter, married to Mr Empson, Professor 
of Civil Law, at the East India College, near Hertford, 
and now Editor of the Edinburgh Review. For the last 
thirty-lire years, Lord Jeffrey resided chiefly at the beautiful 
village of Craigorook, situated at the foot of the Corstor- 
phine Hills, three miles or so from Edinburgh. 

On the 25th January, at Brighton, of disease of tho heart, 
Sir Felix Booth, Baronet. He was the son of Philip Booth, Esq., 
of Russell Square, and was a wealthy distiller, having extensive 
establishments in London, Brentford, and in Scotland. In 1828 
and 1829, he filled the office of Sheriff of London, and in 1884, 
was created a baronet. He was distinguished for his munifi* 
cence, having presented Sir James Ross with £20,000 to enable 
him to fit out his Polar expedition. He is succeeded by hi* 
nephew, John William Booth, born in 1805, 

Lieutenant Waghorn, R.N., the gallant and persevering pio- 
neer of the overland route to India, died at his residence, Golden 
Square, Pentonville, London, on the 8th January, in the 49th 
year of his age. His death was sadden and unexpected, al- 
though his health had been for some time considerably impaired 
by anxiety of mind, arising chiefly from pecuniary engagement*, 
contracted in his prosecution of the Trieste experiments in 1846. 
These liabilities the sacrifice of his entire property were inade- 
quate to liquidate. He had only returned on Christmas day 
from Malta, where he had been residing a short time for the 
benefit of his heath. Independently of the main incidents of 
his history, in connexion with the Indian overland enterprise, 
which has immortalized his name, his career was a most extra, 
ordinary one, full of the strangest vicissitudes, and abounding in 
instances of character and energy of no ordinary kind. A pen. 
sion had been granted to him by Government, but be lived to re- 
ceive only one quarter's payment. He has left a widow in very 
straightened circumstances. 

On tho 9th of January, at Inverness, Mr James M*Cosh, 
editor and proprietor of the Internes) Advertiser, in the 35th 
year of his age. The immediate cause of his death was disease 
of the heart, but he, at no period of life, enjoyed robust health, and 
for many year* he had been occasionally confined to his residence by 
partial indisposition. He laboured under a complication of physical 
weakness and malformation, which rendered his activity of mind, 
and energy of disposition, the more remarkable. Mr M'Cosh was 
a native of Dundee, and, when an infant, he fell out of his nurse'* 
arms, whereby his spine was irretrievably injured. In his youtk 
he was much given to reading, and at school he^ras remarkable 
for hi* recitations, notwithstanding his deformity. After he had 
finished his education, he was placed in a writer's office, but early 
showed a predilection for literary pursuits. After the expiry of 
his apprenticeship, he became managing clerk in the same office 
where he hid served hi* time. In January, 1841, under the 
- Digitized by VjUOVLC 



auspices of the then Non-Intrusion party in the Established 
Church of Scotland, he started the Dundee Warder, of which 
he was editor and part proprietor, and which i> now published 
under the name of the Norther* fFitrder. From Dundee 
he removed to Edinburgh, about three years ago, to edit 
Lcnce'i Magazine, which was for a considerable time under 
his management. While at Dundee he projected the Continental 
Translation Society, for publishing translations of foreign theolo- 
gical works, and under their auspices several valuable volumes 
were issued. This society's publications ultimately merged in 
Mr. Clark's foreign theological scries. Mr. M'Cosh had only 
been about eight months resident in Inverness. He went there 
to establish the Interncit Adteriiter, and during the short 
period that has elapsed since its commencement, it has attained 
a highly respectable circulation. He possessed very extensive 
and varied information, and was an able and clear writer. He 
was partial to close and minute reasoning, and his style, thongU 
sometimes heavy, was remarkable for its pnrity. He was a 
zealous member of the Free Church, and, at the time of the 
Disruption, he published a pamphlet on the clergy, entitled 
" the Wheat and the Chafr," which was reviewed in Blackwood '» 
Magazine, and characterised as " the most malignant pamphlet 
of the day." 

Died lately at his residence, Hawthorn Lodge, in the County 
of Mayo, Ireland, Mr. Charles O'Malley, Q. C, of the Irish bar. 
He was formerly an officer in the Seventh Dragoon Guards, and 
served with much distinction in Italy and the Peninsula. Jn 
1817 he retired from the army, and became a member of the 
bar. He was the original " Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon," 
in Mr. Lever's popnlar tale of that name. 

On the 3d November, on board her Majesty's ship Kingfisher, 
in the Bight of Beniu, Mr. John Duncan, the African Traveller. 
He was the son of a small farmer in the County of Wigton. At 
an early age he enlisted in the First Regiment of Life Guards, 
in which he served with credit for eighteen years. About the 
year 1840, he was discharged with a high character for good 
conduct. In the voyage to the Niger, in 1842, Mr. Duncan was 
appointed armourer, and during the progress of that ill-fated ex- 
pedition, he held a conspicuous place in all the treaties made by 
the Commissioners with the native chiefs. He returned to Eng- 
land, one of the remuant of the expedition, with a frightful wound 
in his leg, and a shattered body, from which he long suffered. 
With a return of health, however, came a renewed desire to ex- 
plore Africa, and, under the auspices of the Council of the Geo- 
graphical Society, he started, in the summer of 1844, not without 
substantial proofs from many of the members, ef the interest they 
took in his perilous undertaking. The particulars of his journey 
along the coast until his arrival in Dahomey, were detailed in 
letters to his friends, and published in the " Geograpliical Society's 
Journal" of that period. From Dahomey he again returned to 
the coast, having traversed a portion of country hitherto un- 
trodden by any European, bnt broken down in health, and in 
extreme suffering, from the old wouod in his leg. Apprehensive 
that mortification had commenced, he at one time made prepara- 
tions for cutting off his own limb, a fact which displays his 
great resolution. All these journeys were undertaken on a very 
slenderly furnished purse, which, on his arrival at Whydah, was 
so totally exhausted that he was compelled to place himself in 
" pawn," as he expressed it, for advances which would take years 
of labour on the coast to liquidate. From that disagreeable 
position his friends of the Geographical Society soon relieved 
him , by an ample subscription, with which he proposed to make 
the journey from Cape Coast to Timbnctoo, but the state of his 
health compelled him to return to England. He was lately ap- 
pointed by Government Vice-Consul to Dahomey, for which place 
he waa on his way when he died. The hopes which were enter- 
tained that, from his influence with the native chiefs, and more 
especially with the King of Dahomey, an effectual check might 
be put to the slave trade on that part of the coast, were entirely 

frustrated by his untimely death. Although without much edu- 
cation, Mr Duncan was a man of mnch observation, and strong 
natural good sense, and under all his trials and hardships dis- 
played a courage and spirit of endurance worthy of all respect. 
He has left a widow, who is, we believe, but poorly provided for. 

At Plymouth, on the 2d January, Sir David James Hamilton 
Dickson, M.D., Inspector of Hospitals and Fleets, in his 70th 
year. He was the youngest and last surviving son of the late 
Hev. George Dickson, minister of Bedrule, Roxburghshire. He 
became a licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons of Edin- 
burgh, in 1798. In the following year he was appointed a sur- 
geon in the navy, and served in the expeditions to Holland, in 
1799, and to Egypt, in 1801. In 1806 he was appointed acting 
physician and inspector of the fleet and hospitals of the Lee- 
ward Islands, and in 1813 superintending physician of the Rus- 
sian Fleet in the Medway. For his services in the latter capa- 
city, he received the thanks of bis Imperial Majesty, and was no- 
minated a knight of the order of St. Waldirair. In 1814 he was 
appointed physician to the Mediterranean fleet, bnt changed to 
the Halifax station. In 1816 he became a fellow of the Royal 
College of Physicians, Edinburgh, and in 1822 a member of the 
Royal College of Physicians, London. In 1824 he was ap- 
pointed physician to the Royal Naval Hospital at Plymouth, and 
in 1 $40 Inspector of Hospitals. He was Physician Inspector at 
the capture of the French and Danish Islands in the West Indies, 
and in the expedition on the Chesapeake, New Orleans, kc; and 
for his services he was knighted by King William IV. in 1834s. 
Sir David Dickson was the author of many medical works of in- 
terest and value. He was a fellow of the Royal Society, Edin- 
burgh, and of the Linntean Society, 4c. 

A young and enterprising navigator, Robert Shedden, Esq., 
has been cut off in the spring-time of his days. In the Nancy 
Dawson yacht, owned and commanded by him, he sailed from 
England about two years since on a^oyage round the world, 
and with the intention of proceeding, at the end of his second 
year's absence, from England, to prosecute a search for the miss- 
ing expedition under Sir John Franklin. It appears from the 
accounts which have reached England, that the Nancy Dawson 
touched at Petropaulaki, Kamschatka, fell in with ice on the 
passage through Beh ring's Straits, and found her Majesty's ship* 
Herald and Plover (two ships despatched by government for Sir 
John's relief) just as they were sailing from KoUebue Sound. 
The yacht kept company with them for some days, and went with 
the boats despatched from her Majesty's ship Plover round Point 
Barrow and rendered great assistance, and afforded much kindness 
to the boat expedition to the Mackenzie River. On two occa- 
sions the yacht was nearly lost. The Nancy Dawson sailed south 
in company with her Majesty's ship Herald, and passing through 
the Aleuctian Group, arrived at Mazatlan on the 13th November. 
On the passage, Mr Shedden was extremely ill, and three days 
after his arrival at Mazatlan, in spite of the assistance rendered 
him by the naval medical officer present, he died in his 29th or 30th 
year. His funeral was attended with great regret and respect 
by most of the naval officers at Mazatlan. Mr Shedden was in 
possession of a large fortune, and had great expectations. He 
resided at one time with his mother at Newton Don, near Kelso. 
The family to which he belonged is of Scottish origin, but has 
long been honourably connected vrith the commercial pursuits of 
the city of London, and many of its members have acquired great 
wealth. His father, William Shedden, Esq., a merchant, was 
the fourth son of Robert Sheddon, Esq., the head of the well- 
known London house of Sheddon, and the brother of George 
Shedden, Esq, of Paulerspury Park, in the county of North- 
l ampton. He married Wilhelniina, the daughter of Captain 
• William Miller, R.N., and died in 1820, leaving an only child, 
I Robert Shedden, Esq., the subject of this notice. The late Sir 
David James Hamilton Dickson, inspector of fleets and hospitals, 
whose narao also appears in this month's obituary, was the undo 
of his mother and of her sister, Mrs Robertson of Ednam House, 

fbiitid by cuosei tbouf, l», duhof itbbxt ; 



MARCH, 185 0. 



( Continued from page 29. ) 


No one, perhaps, has yet succeeded in describing 
to the life a calm at sea; it is so monotonous. One 
may possibly be Sole to explain one's sensations during 
its continuance, though even that seems doubtful. 
It is the negation of motion, almost of life. Beyond 
the deck on which you stand there are only three 
objects visible — the bine sea, the bluer sky, and the 
fiery sun rolling through it. For a time these in- 
spire you with the most sublime ideas ; you seem to 
have got within the serene halls of eternity. Every- 
thing is still, silent, unruffled, tranquil and beautiful 
as death ; and you appear, as yon gaze around, to be 
absorbed in a delicious dream, from which you never 
desire to awake. The ineffable serenity of the 
heavens infuses itself into your soul, which becomes 
impregnated, as it were, with a celestial joy not trans- 
latable into language. 

The " Black Eagle" seemed anything but an eagle 
now. It lay like a log upon the waters, where not a 
ripple was discernible. Then it was that I beheld, in 
all its beauty, the sapphire blue of the Mediterranean, 
which looked like another sky, equalling in serene 
loveliness the sky above. The sun's wake appeared 
like a glittering line of fire, drawn over a metallic sur- 
face. Yet even at such moments there is a pulse in 
the sea, whioh throbs, and pants, and heaves under the 
influence of the attracting luminary overhead. Per- 
haps, also, the earth's motion may have something to 
do with the everlasting agitation of the waters. 

At night the prospect from the ship's deck pos- 
sessed marvellous fascination. By I know not what 
process, patches of the sea appeared to be bathed in 
moonlight, while dark shadows here and there en- 
veloped other portions of it, and gave them the ap- 
pearance of islands dotting a luminous ocean. When 
clouds came, white and ghost-like, to vary the face of 
heaven, they added wonderfully to the charms of the 
landscape. Sometimes they seemed to descend in 
columns to the edge of the deep; and through the clear, 
open spaces between them, you looked far away, as it 
were, into another creation, where figures of light and 


beauty, winged and wreathed with amaranth, alighted 
on the pearly waves, or emerged from them heaven- 
wards, like Thetis or Leucothoe, when ascending to the 
court of Zeus. Then I understood the meaning of 
" the silver-footed queen;" for the mother of Achilles 
was only a personification of the sheen of the sea when 
it has been lulled into ineffable slumbers by the breath 
of night, and the moon walks over it like a fairy 
power, making it glad in its sleep, and pouring visions 
on the eyes of all beholders. 

From the birth of time to the present hour, men 
have looked at night into the heavens as towards an 
oracle, always on the point of making revelations, 
which it never makes. Standing alone on the deck, 
I looked up at the celestial host, marching eternally, in 
silence, towards some unknown goal. There were Orion 
and Bootes — the Pleiades, ever searching for their 
lost sister — and the blazing planets, and stars of the 
first magnitude, wheeling beyond the moon. The 
Homerio passage on the night projected itself at onoe 
into my mind, and for the first time, perhaps, in my 
life, I felt its entire truth. 

One other thought I had which must be common to 
all men. While looking at those eternal orbs, I felt 
myself to be eternal, like them. Though surrounded 
by all that is transitory — though resting on the lap, as 
it were, of the everlasting type of vicissitude — I raised 
my ideas to that immeasurable elevation which the 
empire of change does not reach. For the moment, 
the perishable communed with the imperishable, and 
there was between them a deep sympathy, as between 
God and his creatures. I fancied there must, in all 
those bright stars, be beings like me looking across 
the measureless gulfs of space towards this loved 
planet, the earth, which is our mother and our nurse, 
and the tomb that covers our ashes when we have 
ceased to be sentient beings. Where goes then the 
thing that thinks, the divine breath which broods over 
the sea of matter, and makes it pregnant with thought, 
speculation, ambition, and love ? In the depth of my 
heart, I interrogated the power which seemed to hover 
above me in the vault of heaven ; but there was no 
response. Nature will not on such occasions come to 
our aid. In the dark we come into this world, and in 



the dark we go out of it. Still, at all times, and in all 
places, I feel my being to be inter-penetrated with 
another being of imperishable goodness and beauty ; 
and the consciousness of this communion seems to be 
the best guarantee of immortality. Towards the in- 
finite we always yearn, and then most when we are 
deeply dissatisfied with the finite and the perishable. 

In this faint record I cannot restore life to the fad- 
ings which then lived in me. I looked backwards and 
forwards to the persons I had known and loved, and 
to the things I hoped shortly to see. Egypt, with 
all its atmosphere of antiquity; its pyramids, its 
subterranean palaces, its temples, its chambers of 
death, its palm groves, its camels, and its deserts, and, 
above all, its mighty and mysterious Nile, haunted me 
perpetually. The very moon I then saw blanch- 
ing the waves, rested that instant on the Pyramids 
and Lybian sands, rendering them pale and spectral, 
and imparting to everything a sort of hieroglyphioal 
significance. Within a very limited number of days 
I should probably be among these objects, which 
now— like the matter of the Berkeleyan theory — 
Misted for me only in thought. 

The Bey, being unable to sleep, joined me about 
midnight, on the deck* where, sitting down together, 
we leaned against the companion, lighted our pipes, 
and entered into one of those dreamy conversations 
which partake more of the nature of sleep than waking. 
I was glad, I confess, to be delivered from myself, for 
1 had felt a sadness come over me which would not 
be dispelled. Bat Ali was not, that night, in the 
humour to be cheerful. We soon came to talk, I 
know not how, of the strange objects that must be 
found paving the bottom of the sea; the treasures of 
ancient kings, gold and sparkling jewels, and the skele- 
tons, perhaps, of those who owned them. The whole 
channel of the Mediterranean must be strewed with 
human bones. Carthagenians, Syrians, Sidonians, 
Egyptians, Fenians, Greeks, and Romans — there they 
lie, side by aide, beneath the eternal waters; and 
the modern ship that fetches freight from Alexandria 
sails in its whole course over buried nations. It may 
be the corruption of the dead that now adds brightness 
to the phosphorescence of the waves. 

Ali told me that in the East they have a supersti- 
tion on this subject, which represents the spirits of 
the dead as hovering, whether on land or water, over 
the spots where the ruins of their earthly tabernacles 
are found; so that in ploughing the Mediterranean, we 
sail through armies of ghosts more multitudinous than 
the waves. These patient spirits sometimes ride on 
the foam, and at other times repose in those delicious 
little hollows, which look like excavated emeralds, 
between the crests of the waves. It is their union 
and thronging together, say the Orientals, that con- 
stitute the phosphorescence of the sea, for wherever 
there is spirit there is light, and the billows flash with 
the luminousness of buried generations, that concen- 
trate, as it were, the starlight on their wings. 

Presently, one of my English friends joined us; and, 
by way of variety, we struck np a song. The Bey 
smoked and smiled, as we sang together the monotonous 
stanzas of Alice Gray. 

The other passengers, in the course of a short time, 
followed our example; and we held a sort of midnight 
Tee OB deck, smoking, laughing, telling anecdotes 

and stories, and entertaining ourselves in the best way 
we could. Kafoor, who made coffee like one of the 
inhabitants of Jinnistan, brought his apparatus near 
us, and prepared endless cups of this delicious bever- 
age, which diffused its fragrance around, like " Sabean 
odours from the spicy shores of Araby the blest, till, 
pleased with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiled;" 
joined with this perfume was that of the Gebel Latakia 
which descended on us like the soft and somniferous 
dews of Lebanon. 

As, however, ws made no progress all this while, 
everybody was internally dissatisfied. The Bey hated 
the sea, and used to contrast its wearisomeness with 
the pleasures of travelling on land. " Imagine yourself," 
he said, " arriving at the close of day, on horseback, at 
the gates of a caravanserai. The keeper comes forth 
to meet you with a salutation of peace, leads your 
horse into the court, assists you to alight, gives pro- 
vender to your beast, and, if you have no slave, assists 
you in preparing your evening meal. Then prayer- 
carpets are spread upon the terraces* and the voices of 
the faithful ascend to heaven. Palm trees nod over 
you, and, on the "breast of the solid earth, you sink into 
delicious sleep, suoh sleep as a man tastes after the 
fatigue of a long journey, when wrapped in security 
and repose." 

We all agreed in praise of the land ; but supposing 
that the feelings of a sailor would be different, I in- 
quired of the mate, who stood musing at some little 
distance from us, what he thought of the matter. 

"If I had my will," he replied, "I Would build 
myself a oottage somewhere in the recesses of the 
Apennines, where I might never more, during the re* 
mainder of my life, by any possibility, eatoh a glimpse 
of the sea." 


I hate the man who quail* and shivers when sur- 
rounded by danger and death ; hut, the moment he 
escapes from their clutches, smirks and smiles, and af- 
fects to have thought nothing of them. I am not a 
hero of this stamp. Life has always been pleasant to 
me, and I should be loath to lose it — most of all 
should I have been loath to lose it then, when a crowd 
of little urchins, clustering round their mother, prayed 
nightly for me, unconscious how near we were being 
parted for ever. Besides, I appeared to be on the 
point of realising one of the great dreams of my life, 
visiting the valley of the Nile, and experiencing all 
those deep and powerful sensations which such a scene 
must necessarily awaken in me. People with wealth 
at their oommand may smile at this, because it would 
be easy for them to visit Egypt and Nubia if they 
could muster the courage. But that is what they 
cannot muster; and if they could, they would still, 
perhaps, be very far from experiencing the pleasure 
which I knew I should feel. The %orld is exactly 
what you make it for yourself — you carry with you the 
source of all your joys and sorrows ; and, therefore, h 
peregrinating grandee, with tens of thousands at his 
command, may not be able to extract from a year's 
intimacy with Isis and Osiris one thousandth part 
of the delight it afforded me. To speak the truth 
frankly, I wonM net etahaftge the *r«tifi«fttift el 


that jMMf fof all the barbario pearls And gold 
wHidh the gorgeous East eter showered on her kings. 
I had enjoyed some foretaste of thii pleasure ere the 
stonh oomtnenoed, and my imagination unfolded be- 
fore me all the rest. Doubly cruel, therefore, did it 
teem, to be Washed away, like a sea-weed, from the 
warm precincts of the cheerful day, when standing, as 
it were, on the very threshold of such a harvest of 
enjoyment. I called to mind Grey's lines, sublime in 
their touching pathos, 

* tor him so mors the Witting hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife pi; her evening cere ; 
No children ran to lisp their tire's return, 
Or climb his knees, the envied kin to share." 

let, when the gale began, I thought it grand, and 
was struck with admiration. Over that Very sea old 
Odysseus, the muoh-tnduriag man, had been driven 
pell-mell before the tempest. What he suffered seems 
magnificent in poetry; and pious JSneas, too, the pale 
copy of him of Ithaca, did he not encounter a storm 
Somewhere in the neighbourhood P While a man can 
think of epic tempests he is not much to be pitied. 
In faot, while the Mediterranean, during the first pa- 
roxysms of its fury, was lashing up its waves, and pre- 
paring to make its appearance in all its terrible gran- 
deur, L- — ■ and I amused ourselves with recalling 
our schoolboy reminiscences of Homer and Virgil. 

Thus we went on during the first few hours of 
the storm j then, however, all its poetical beauty 
passed away, and the grim, stern, bold reality re- 
mained. Biek and dispirited, I crawled on deck, where 
it was impossible to take a single step without hold- 
ing by a rope. The sailors were drenched to the skin ; 
the mutales of the guns on the one side under water; 
the sails, all bat one, reefed close; and of the little 
canvas that was visible, I oould only now and then 
oaten a glimpse through the driving spray. The ship's 
side had been turned to the waves, which the eaptain as- 
sured mc would have staved in the stern in ten minutes. 
No sea I have ever seen resembled that. The billows 
in no way equalled those vast swells whioh in the 
Atlantic rise like mountains, and roll majestically over 
its boundless surface. Here the waves were short and 
broken) churned into a confused mass of foam and 
spray, boiling, hissing, and seething like a cauldron ; 
while at sight the wind howled through she yard-rings 
like a chorus of devils. 

Id the cabin there Was a dead blank. We scarcely 
spoke to each other. Every one was wrapped in his 
own thoughts, preparing, in the best way he could, to 
face the king of terrors, whom none of us doubted we 
should have to face in the course of a few hours. One 
of my companions, who was so sick that he could not 
crawl out of his berth, besought me to go oU deck, and 
if possible reckon how long, in such a sea, it would 
take us to diet In my attempt to ascend, I was 
washed bask by a huge wave, whioh completely 
drenched me. A sail was then thrown over the stair- 
head by the sailors, and lashed tight with a rope, so 
that there was no exit from the cabin. Had the ship 
gone down, therefore, we must hare been drowned 
where we were. From the glimpse I had caught, how- 
ever, of the face of the sea, I felt sure the most powerful 
ewiutaef could not lire fir* minutes. My companion 
thanked (fed, and, throwing himself baek in his berth, 
ahriaf tk* whust *f that day he net at again oycaed 


his lips, except to express his surprise that I could iit . 
tueh oircumstanoes think of taking off toy wet clothes, 
and putting on dry ones. "It will be all the same," 
he said, "in half an hour; why then do you trouble 
yourself ?" In reply, I said, " I feel uncomfortable", 
and had rather be dry than wet." Invited by the e£» 
ample of Gaet&no, who sat silently smoking in a cor- 
ner, I mechanically lighted a cigar, and followed his 
example, my mind possessed meanwhile by the most 
gloomy apprehensions. The Bey and his slave lay like 
two bales of cotton in their cabin, never uttering a 
word, or even so much as venturing to smoke. They 
also had taken their farewell of this world, and war* 
trying to reconcile themselves with the neoetsity of 
leaving it. 

One night, I know not whioh, as I really lost 
all idea of time, our last moment seemed suddenly to 
have arrived. The iron and marble with which the 
vessel was freighted for the Pasha, during one dreadful 
lurch, seemed all to hare rolled to one side of the hold, 
the partition boards having given way. At the same 
moment there was a fearful cry on deck, ana" a death- 
like lull, as if the "Black Eagle" had given up the 
struggle with the winds, and was now sinking calmly 
through the sea. We looked at each other, pale and 
trembling and expected to see the cabin fill in a mo- 
ment. Presently, however, we heard the contents of the 
whole roll back, the "Eagle" righted herself, and onoe 
more bore away gallantly before the tempest. Then 
there rose a shout wild and joyous from the sailors, 
and I endeavoured to force my way upon deck to join, 
them. But the sail was still bound tightly over the 
stair-head, and there was no exit. I called, but no one 
heard or heeded. Returning to the cabin, I beheld, 
by the light of the dim lamp, Gaetano, the blasphe- 
mous Neapolitan, kneeling before a little rude piotttfe 
of the Virgin. His stupid apathy had been subdued 
by fear. He prayed now, but had never, perhaps, prayed 
before since he left his mother's lap. It was a me- 
lancholy sight. How long he remained in that pos- 
ture I did not notice, but when my attention was next 
called to him, he was quietly smoking, as usual. 

One of my English friends, who had with him a 
prayer-book, took it out, and, with something like the 
" Bortee Virgiliana," sought to discover what was to 
become of us, by observing the first verse or sentence en 
which his eye lighted. Curiously enough, it Was this, 
"And He brought them up safe from many waters." 
This comforted us by directing our thoughts towards 
the only source of safety or protection. 

I kept, as I hare said, no note of time j but the next 
morning after this was Sunday. I went into the Bey's 
cabin, and sat down on his bedside to talk with him. 
The motion of the vessel had become a little more 
steady, and secretly all of us now began tb hope we had 
seen the worst of it. Suddenly, while I was speaking, a 
ray of sunshine descended through the bull's-eye into 
the cabin, upon which, patting the Islamite on the 
shoulder, I exclaimed, "Inshalla; it w all right." Ali 
raised himself upon his elbow, and, peering out Under 
his heavy eyebrows, beheld the little golden patth of 
sunshine on the floor. His very beard seemed aftWto 
tremble with joy. 

Kafoorsaidhe would get us some eoflfee. " We hate 
takes nothing for I know not how many days, a«d We 

will k»k«« go«d tetttfart a**," H« grtofo^aittd 



the net Of our companions ; and we all went on deck 
together. Nothing as yet was in eight but sea and 
iky. The clouds, in ragged and fantastic masses, still 
arched the firmament from east to west, but here and 
there there were large rents in them, and through these, 
floods of sunshine descended on the disturbed waters. 
It was one of the most glorious scenes that oould pos- 
sibly be beheld at sea. Here and there the cloud- 
vault was of a lurid black, deepening as it descended 
towards the edge of the horizon, and beneath it the 
sea reflected the full depth of its gloom. Contrasted 
with this sombre background, were large fields of 
laughing light clouds, of fleecy whiteness, and circling 
expanses of bright blue sky. The sun, when disen- 
tangled as it were from the vapour, looked like the 
" god of this new world," refulgent in golden bright- 
ness, and infusing life into everything beneath. 


The captain's brother now came to me, and, revert- 
ing to a wish I had formerly expressed, offered to 
make for some harbour in the Mores, if I would pay 
the port dues. Of oourse I immediately consented ; 
and the ship was put about, and went dashing along 
through the glittering waters towards the glorious 
country whose interior I so ardently desired to visit. 
Every sail was unfurled ; and, at the rate of eleven 
knots an hour, we flew gallantly along. Now the 
"Black Eagle" vindicated her right to the name ; her 
bows ploughing up the waves into one sheet of silver 
foam, which rose above us in a glittering canopy, and 
descended midships in a heavy shower. 

Ali, who had overheard the mate's proposal, now 
came up to me, and not only offered to bear his share 
of the expenses, but insisted that every other passen- 
ger should do the same. All cheerfully agreed, and 
the sacrifice was thus reduced to a trifle. 

Towards the afternoon, the aspect of the sky again 
portended high winds, if not a storm. In the west 
the clouds gathered together, and were heaped up into 
mountains, above the edge of the horizon, along which 
extended a narrow belt of light. From these super- 
incumbent clouds descended numerous dark columns, 
which seemed to be so many streams of rain, travel- 
ling rapidly over the ocean before the wind, like 
the sand-columns observed by Bruce in the Nubian 
Desert ; like these, too, they were slightly penetrated 
by the rays of the setting sun, which flashed, as it were, 
upon their sides, and produced a magnificent contrast 
with their dusky metallic centres. Shortly afterwards 
these clouds clustered together into one dark mass, 
eclipsing the sun entirely. 

Next morning I ran upon deck, and certainly ex- 
pected, or I should rather say dreaded, from the ap- 
pearance of the heavens, that we should have had 
another terrible storm. To the east the sky was 
lowering, and black streams of rain seemed to be de- 
scending upon sea and land. The wind increased, and 
lew off shore. Presently the sun rose awfully sub- 
line. Seen through the mists which hovered over the 
Ma, it presented the appearance of a vast furnace- 
mouth, glowing with intense fire ; and from this portal 
streaks of light struggled heavily into the gloom, 
catting a blood-red hue over a large portion of the 

sky. The clouds thickened, the wind increased, but 
the storm, thank God, did not reach us. It cleared 
away, and we had then a fine view of the coast of 
Peloponnesus from the island of Sapienso to Cape 

If I had on a former day admired the wild, rugged, 
irregular aspect of the Peloponnesian coast, beheld from 
a distance, my admiration was greatly increased on 
drawing near. No two hills seemed to have the same 
form; some were conical; others resembled a vast 
wave driven before the storm ; others again, like long 
unbroken sweeps of forest trees, rising and sinking in 
a strange, fantastic manner. As we drew nearer still, 
we observed that there was no beach, either sandy or 
pebbly, but the dark rocks came down close to the 
water, which leaped up, and broke about them in snow- 
white foam. As far as the eye could reach, no traces 
of vegetation appeared, excepting a few scattered 
patches of young grass, and a small range of stunted 
trees along the summits of the nearer and further 
ranges of mountains, which in this part of the Mores 
have a character truly Alpine. 

As the day advanced, the sky cleared up, the sun 
burst from behind the clouds, and threw a flood of 
glory upon sea and land. The blue, misty mountains 
towered majestically in the distance, blending their 
summits with the vast ridges of clouds, which rested 
upon them, and seemed to form a part of their sub- 
stance. Above these, ss daylight passed away, the 
stars came forth, cresting the peaks of cloud and bill 
as with a coronet. Such were the appearances of 
nature as we drew near Navarino. On our right, at a 
short distance, was Modon, a small town, with the 
aspect of one extended fortress, running along the 
shore level with the water. Two great towers, on 
the right of the town, form its regular defences, and 
another similar building, rising like a minaret towards 
the centre, marks the site of the place to those who 
approach it from the sea. 

A lofty conical mountain indicates the position of 
Navarino, which lies at its foot towards the north-west. 
As we drew near the entrance of the harbour, we ob- 
served on the right a spacious cavern in the rocks, 
into which, when the wind is high, the waves dash 
with a thundering sound. A little farther on, a large 
black crag projects from the shore, and is constantly 
surrounded by leaping waves. 

For some time the wind had been gradually dying 
away ; Posidon and jEolus having, I suppose, agreed 
that I, one of the devoutest of their worshippers, should 
enter their ancient dominions in peace. Many a heroic 
prow in mythical times had ploughed these waters ; 
but never did god or hero enter the port of sandy 
Pylos under more agreeable auspices. Overhead, the 
sky was studded with stars and constellations, which 
gazed, Narcissus-like, at their own beauty, reflected 
from the serene waters. The soft air was not that 
of Italy ; there was no languor in it. It was at once 
balmy and invigorating. With all our sails spread, 
we oould scarcely woo sufficient wind into them to 
waft us along the Point of Sphaoterea into the bay — 
and what a bay ! — fifteen miles in circumference, and 
protected completely by the land, from every wind 
that blows. As we moved up slowly along the island, 
rendered sacred by Spartan valour, we admired the 
gigantic natural arch, which, extending through its 



whole breadth, afforded us a prospect of the sea 

The first sound of life that came to me from Greece 
was the barking of a shepherd's dog in the mountains, 
to which one of our sailors replied with admirable powers 
of imitation. Next I observed a bright fire on the 
northern shore of the harbour, and then the lights of 
all the windows of Navarino streamed out a welcome 
upon us. 

Let not the English reader be offended by what I 
am going to say. I had lived in France until I was 
half a Frenchman ; and therefore, when I heard on 
shore the roll of the French drum (the whole Morea 
was then occupied by French troops), and listened to 
the songs of the soldiers as they paced the beach, my 
heart leaped with pleasure. Historical associations 
are weak, compared with living sympathies. Classical 
Greece £ loved, as one loves one's ancestors; but 
towards revolutionary France I felt all the yearnings 
of a brother, and at that moment I knew of no sound 
that would have been so welcome to my ears as a 
snatch of the "Marseillaise," which, in defiance of 
orders, some republican soldier was humming to him- 
self on the solitary beach. Few, perhaps, give the 
French due credit for the tremendous struggles they 
have made for liberty. The excesses they committed 
during the Reign of Terror, as well as before and after, 
everybody is sure to remember ; but we are not so 
sure to remember the unparalleled virtues they dis- 
played at the same time. In the annals of liberty 
there are no more exciting, and few brighter pages 
than those which record the achievements of revolu- 
tionary France; to which no writer, historian, or 
politician has yet done justice. The old, forgotten 
melodies of 1793, seemed to rise from the depths of 
time, and become audible as I listened to the thrilling 
words of the "Marseillaise," as they floated upwards, 
like a hymn, through the atmosphere of old Hellas. 
The Demos pf Athens would have rejoiced to thunder 
forth so patriotic a song, worthy to be classed with 
the democratic air of "Pallas, stormer of cities." 

Perhaps, if I may venture to say so, I belong to 
the South by my temperament, or it may be that the 
education we receive impregnates more persons than 
choose to acknowledge it with an enthusiastic fondness 
for republican Greece. I looked upon it as the birth- 
place and cradle of beauty, intellectual and physical 
I had drenched myself with its literature, its poetry, 
its popular eloquence, its matchless histories, its phi- 
losophy, and its arts, and I found it impracticable to 
look calmly and unmoved on the shores of the first 
Hellenic harbour into which I had entered. It was 
like stepping back two thousand years into antiquity. 
No one on board exactly shared my feelings, though 
L— remained with me for several hours on deck. 
The night was perfectly delicious. On board and 
ashore everything was still, so that not a sound could 
be heard, save now and then the scream of the sea-fowl, 
as they soared along the cliffs of Sphacterea. 

The sky looked beautiful, but had not the beauty I 
should have wished. It hail clouds on it, the linger- 
ing skirts, as it were, of the late storm— white, indeed, 
and fleecy, but still clouds, and I should have prefer- 
red one immense vault of luminous ether. The moon, 
surrounded by innumerable stars, appeared at inter- 
Tab, » these vapoury curtains were gathered up or 

withdrawn, and then the Peloponnesian hills and moun- 
tains appeared to be invested with almost preternatural 
loveliness. The moon seems to me always to impart 
an air of unreality to the world. I am short-sighted, 
to which circumstance, perhaps, I owe half the ideal 
beauty and grandeur which the earth often assumes 
in my eyes. On the present occasion the Peloponnesian 
mountains looked like things piled up by some magic 
pencil, against a background of turquoise and silver 
bedropped with gold. - They.' did not seem so much 
substances as the airy creations of a dream. Here and 
there the moonlight rested on them in patches, while 
their half -transparent summits seemed to be entangled 
in the golden embraces of the Pleiades or some other 

constellation. L left me about midnight, and 

I remained alone upon the deck. My thoughts then 
travelled along the most deeply-wom track in all the 
intellectual field of associations, to the banks of the 
Leman Lake, where those I most loved on earth 
were, no doubt, then slumbering beneath the same 
moon. Distance is a sort of mystery, and the ways by 
which we produce it often appear mysterious also, 
when we deeply consider them. Within a compara- 
tively few days, I had been at Jolimont, writing, 
reading, smoking, laughing with my children, or chat- 
tering with my wife. I had now crossed the Alps, 
traversed a large portion of Italy, passed along Corsica, 
Sardinia, Sicily, and was now in the half-fabulous 
land of Hellas, the first syren look of whose beauty 
had literally intoxicated me. It is in such moods 
that the most unambitious write poetry; and I, also, 
who can say with Ovid,— 

"Not Clio nor her ritters have I seen, 
A* Hesiod saw them, on the shady green — " 

found my ideas taking a poetical turn, and — 
" Liap'd in number*, for the numbers came." 
Whoever has travelled thus far with me will have 
become tolerant by this time, so that without further 
preface or apology I shall introduce at once my un- 
polished verses, warm from the heart, and I wish I 
could add, faithful to its fires ; but now that I see 
them before me in black and white, they look, as 
Roubiliac said of his own statues, very much like 
tobacco-pipes. However, as the French conducteurs 
say, "AUoiu, met mfattft; xl faut marcher toujour! ." — 

Wherefore do we toil in youth P 
' Wisdom, gray, confess the truth ; 
Wherefore dare the battle's strife, 
Seeming light of death and life P 
Wherefore haunt the Moses' spring, 
Or touch Apollo's golden string. 
Or, in some ancient turret gray, 
Charm the drowsy hours away 
By the spell of learned page, 
Full of precepts quaint and sage t 
Wherefore watch the golden flies 
Wherewith night her head attires, 
When in silent state she lies 
Above the cloudy fretted sides P 
Wherefore, in the crowded hall, 
With hired fury chafe and brawl ? 
Wherefore in the senate sit, 
And brandish eloquence and wit ; 
Fire the breast with patriot leal, 
To struggle for the common weal t 
Wherefore thus, in youth and age, 
Toil we o'er this weary stage ; 



Woman's untie shaold mat aw mu, 
And gild with Ian our clergies P 
This, this, ii »11 the golden spoil 
We icek in \ifefi Olympic tail ; 
And this, through wavering good and ID, 
The central power, attracts ns still j 
We think, we (oil, we war, wo nee, 
Aid all we aak in— wonuo's lore I 

tilDT PTL08. 

Next morning I was. up with the first break of 
dawn, scrutinising, by the rapidly growing light, the 
infolding feat area of the soene. The fort, the town 
—picturesquely scattered on the elope of a bill, and 
with, its white booses relieved against the yellow 
marly soil — the tranquil waters of the bay, the gently 
swelling eminences, the blue mountains in the die* 
tance, with the rich sky above, blushing with the 
purple light of the morning — all these formed a pro- 
apeet of singular magnificence. 

Soon after breakfast we went on shore in the cap- 
tain's boat. Of course, the travelled and the wise 
Will smile, but I must acknowledge my weakness — 
my object being not to appear philosophical, but to 
confess the truth — at every pull of the oar my heart 
beat more quickly j all the inspiration of my boyish 
days was upon me. I felt the most devouring im- 
patience to be ashore; and when from the boat's 
bow I leaped on the beach, and felt myself standing 
on the soil of Greece, I experienced a thrill of delight 
equal to that of the long-parted lover when he rushes 
into the arms of his mistress. It matters not what 
you love, but if you love it earnestly and honestly, the 
attainment of it must always give you extraordinary 
delight. I had loved Greece, since the earliest dawn 
of memory, as the cradle of republican liberty ; and 
the reader will pardon me if I acknowledge that my 
eyes were moist with pleasure as I first planted my 
foot firmly on its breezy shore. 

When I attempted to walk, I found myself tottering 
like a child just escaped from leading-strings — the 
roll of the ship seemed to be still throwing me from 
aide to side. Everything around appeared to rock and 
pitch as in a high sea. We went to the custom-house, 
gave in our names, and were then at liberty to go 
where we pleased. The Greeks who were here as- 
sembled possessed very striking features — in most 
cases handsome, but savage, with immense mustaches, 
and long hanging elf-locks. One of these sinister- 
looking gentlemen, who spoke Turkish, accompanied 
us to the town, converting with Ali Bey as we went 
along. It gave me pleasure to see Turk and Greek 
thus walking side by side, now no longer as tyrant and 
slave, but on terms of proud equality. 

The people of this place, like all other Greeks, are 
remarkably inquisitive, and eaae Booking in crowds 
to stare at us. It was now some time, perhaps, since 
they had seen a Turkish Bey, and in all probability 
had never beheld one walking peacefully by their doors, 
am in arm with two Englishmen, as Ali now did with 
L and me, rather as a timid spectator than as 
a haughty despot. 

The aspect of Navarine is very remarkable. It was 
quite that of a new settlement in the wilderness. 
Houses hsjtijr rmj «f with Habit, little wooden 

eabins three or four times the else of a wotekewo'l 

box; no streets, no pavement, no regularity; many, 
perhaps most, of the houses hare wooden stain out- 
side, like the Swiss ehsieta, or the more ancient houses 
in Normandy. Two or three were neat and pretty, 
plastered and whitewashed on the outside, and sppa» 
really clean within. On one I observed a series of 
festoons, painted in bright colours beneath the eaves. 
There is an hospital, a church, and a large fortress. 
Four years ago there were few or no houses in the 
place, that is when the French arrived. 

The Greek burying-ground, which is beside the 
church, has no wall or inolosure o